


Lost Princes

by DarkDianora



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Kris Allen (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: AU, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-25
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDianora/pseuds/DarkDianora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Desert Prince. Adam and Kris try to come to terms with their experiences in the palace, and Tommy needs to deal with his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: AU, dubious grammar, humor and plot. Unbeta'd, feel free to point out any mistakes--or offer to proofread. :)

The world had gone crazy.  Everybody seemed to have lost their senses, and Adam hadn’t yet managed to regain his.  How could he, when there never was time?  While he wanted nothing more than to curl up and hide somewhere, he was caught up in a crazy whirlwind that randomly tossed him ‘round and ‘round; moments of peace so rare they were almost nonexistent.  The headline “I was a Male Concubine” on several front pages of the rainbow press had garnered him invitations to seemingly every talkshow between east and west coast.

And he’d been so blue-eyed at first, thinking ‘why not’, thinking he could use the money that was offered.  Soon enough he realized that what the public really wanted were sordid details and a piece of his soul.  The questions were all centered on one thing only: Had the Sultan, or the prince, or both--preferably at the same time--done the dirty with him?  People seldom asked directly, but the thought was always there in their eyes when they looked at him, trying to gauge his reactions to their probing.

It made him feel like he was constantly on the defense, a victim once again; and he became distrustful toward other people.  In the end he accepted no more invitations, and a few weeks after his escape there was only one more talkshow to get through.

He was tongue-tied and wary the whole evening.  Only this time there were no intimate questions, no boring and probing.  Instead the sympathetic blonde host concentrated on his life before the kidnapping and asked about his future plans as an entertainer.  When he answered that he didn’t have any yet she invited him to do an impromptu performance.

She had to have planned this, of course, there was a guitar player present, and after a short negotiation with the man Adam offered to sing Tears for Fears’ ‘Mad World’, a song that he knew by heart and which carried a special meaning for him.  It had never failed him, and it didn’t this time.

He lost himself in it and there were tears in his eyes when he looked up to the public at the end.  The audience was silent at first, eerily so, but then everybody jumped to their feet and an ear-shattering applause broke forth.  Next day’s paps dubbed it a ‘haunting rendition.’  Three months later he had his first album out.  ‘Bound To You’ debuted at number 5 on the Billboard 200 and suddenly he was famous, once and for all.

Life became even crazier then.  He toured all over the country for months, singing in clubs and at smaller venues, did lots of interviews and worked harder than ever before in his life.  It was all he had ever wanted.  It should have been a dream come true.  So why wasn’t he happy, or at least content?  Instead he felt like he was caught in limbo, drudging on and on without ever getting anywhere.

If he was honest with himself he knew the reason for that.  Or rather, he strongly suspected where it lay.  His mom had told him often enough, and as usual she had been spot on.  “Adam, honey,” she’d said.  “You need to talk about what happened to you in that palace.  You can’t just keep it bottled up.  Some day it’ll blow your head off.  Why don’t you try to talk with someone professional?  Someone who doesn’t know you?  It might be easier.”

He’d admitted that, yes, she was right.  But he just couldn’t.  He wasn’t there, yet.  And at the rate he was going, he might never get there, either.  He couldn’t even bear to think about it, how would he be able to talk?  For the moment he just wanted to pretend it never happened.  Every now and then Tommy’s face appeared in his mind, with the anxious expression it’d borne when he’d last seen him.  When Tommy had sent him away, and told him that he wouldn’t go with him.  Every time that happened, he firmly pushed the image away.  But it was hard.  There seemed to be a constant tightness in his throat, and a small but heavy weight in his heart which made him feel as if he was watching the world through gray-tinted spectacles.

He wasn’t even sure anymore what he really had felt for the prince.  Had it been love?  Infatuation?  Or something akin to Stockholm syndrome?  He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know, damn it.  It was all futile, anyway.

 

~~~~~

 

Most days, he clung to a firm routine.  A jog in the morning to get his mind clear, followed by a healthy breakfast.  Then work, which meant lots of appointments and meetings with people and implied rather few things to do with actually making music.  He’d known that, he was quite realistic about the business.  Always had been, but it was still difficult not to let it eat him up.

Actually, the morning jog was the best part of it all, he mused as he was making his way along his customary route at a leisurely pace.  He usually started very early, when the park and the sidewalks were firmly in the hands of other joggers and dog walkers.  On his way back he passed a bigger road which around that time was just starting to get busy.

At that point he usually slowed down, so that he wouldn’t be too out of breath when he arrived at Chérie’s, a small café that seemed run-down but served the best Mochacino around.  He always ordered a tall one and gave the change to the guitar tramp who seemed to have taken up residence on the sidewalk a little way down the road.  Then he would return to his newly rented villa, sipping the coffee and getting ready to face the life of a rock star once more.

This morning there was a change from routine when said guitar tramp suddenly raised his head and their eyes met.  Something in that gaze made Adam stop and take a closer look at the guy.

There wasn’t really much to see.  A rather haggard face with deeply tanned skin, unkempt straggles of light brown hair peeking out from under a baseball cap, wide, generous lips, a strong chin with a fading bruise on it.  The hands on the guitar strings surprisingly clean, the arms slim but toned.  On his left upper arm, a strange tattoo was peeking out from under the frayed sleeve of a plaid shirt.  No.  Not a tattoo.  That was a scar.  Adam’s stomach flipped.

Knees weak, he crouched down, slowly extending a hand toward the man’s face.  Deep brown eyes peered up at him for a second, scrutinizing him.  Then the gaze became shuttered and fell away.

“Shit!” Adam gasped, and then “Fuck!” as he reared back, dropping his coffee neatly on his Nike’s.  There was a roar in his ears, and he experienced some kind of vertigo when his heartbeat suddenly tripled.

“Ouch,” murmured the tramp.  “Shame about the coffee.”

Unbelievingly, Adam stared at the guy, stared at _Kris_ , totally at a loss for words, but Kris didn’t look up again.  Only his white-knuckled hands clinging to the guitar showed how much he was affected by Adam’s presence.  Time seemed to stand still.  Around them the traffic flowed noisily and people muttered, annoyed when they had to step around them.

Trembling uncontrollably, feeling like he’d been run over by a semi, Adam stumbled backward, away from Kris.  He took off, literally fleeing, and didn’t stop until he reached his home, where he spent the better part of the morning huddling on his couch, still in his sweaty clothes, until around noon Lane called, wanting to know why the hell he wasn’t at the studio.

Adam had her cancel all appointments for the day.  Then he systematically went about the business of getting totally drunk in record time.

 

~~~~~

 

He came to when somebody tried to lift his head out of something squishy by pulling his hair.  “Oouch!” he yowled, or tried to.  Was that creaking, hoarse sound his voice?  Shit, what had he done?!

“Now, Mr. Lambert,” a cheerful voice rang out above him, “sleeping on pizza will give you pimples.  You must get up!”  Right.  Juanita.  His housekeeper.  Not for the faint of heart.

The tugging continued mercilessly.  Groaning, he let himself be rolled on his back, only to feel more viscous matter squish into his hair.  While the sensation itself was awful enough, the smell was even worse.  Pineapple, anchovies and garlic?  Nah, couldn’t be.  He was strictly a pepperoni and cheese man.

“S’not mine,” he garbled, blinking sluggishly.

Splash!  A cascade of cold water hit his face, accompanied by another yell.

“Mr. Lambert.  Get up!”

“You’re fired,” he groused, managing to turn around and get on all fours.

Juanita snorted.  “Ha!  One more word and I’ll call your mother.”  Well, damn.  He knew when he was beaten.

“Shit, no!  Don’t!  I’ll get up, okay?”

Slowly he pulled himself up, stomach heaving.  “I don’t feel so good…” he croaked, having to swallow repeatedly.

The harpy knew no compassion.  “The bathroom, Mr. Lambert.  Hurry.  If you get sick on this carpet, I won’t--”

He didn’t hear the rest of her words as he half-staggered, half-lurched to the nearest bathroom where he promptly threw up into the toilet bowl.  Yuck.  Grimacing wildly, he rinsed his mouth with cold water.  Afterward he felt marginally better.  Better being the wrong word.  Less awful came a lot closer.  His head was throbbing like he had several coal miners at work there.

He took a shower, the water so hot it melted the cheese he had clinging to his hair.  And damn, even his hair hurt!  Not daring to look into the mirror, he gingerly toweled himself off and dressed in comfortable cotton pants and a soft old t-shirt.  At last he brushed his teeth.  Okay.  A couple Tylenol, and he might feel human again anyetime soon.

He spent the rest of the day holed up in his bedroom, staring at the walls with unseeing eyes.  Toward evening he made a foray into the kitchen where he found an omelet with spinach and cheese that Juanita must have left him for dinner.  The sight alone made his stomach roll.  He put it into the fridge and went to bed, feeling completely exhausted.

But he couldn’t sleep, his thoughts kept circling around that terrible moment on the sidewalk.  Every time he closed his eyes, Kris’ bruised face appeared before him, looking up at him reproachfully.  He hadn’t really looked like that, Adam tried to reassure himself; it had to be his own guilty conscience that was paying tricks on him.  But it was useless.

After a thoroughly miserable sleepless night he tried to get back to normal the next morning and dragged his weary body to his usual jogging routine.  But it was different this time.  The landscape went by him in a haze.  Even though he tried to pace himself he arrived at Chérie’s way before he was ready to face it.  As much as he didn’t want to, he kept checking the sidewalk for Kris, and he was more than relieved to find he wasn’t there.  When Kris failed to appear the next day, too, Adam told himself to relax.  Maybe he’d been wrong about the whole thing and it hadn’t been Kris at all.

 

~~~~~

 

He threw himself into work like a man possessed, never giving himself the opportunity to stop and think.  One day Lane pulled him aside, frowning.  She led him into an empty room where she pushed him onto a couch and sat down beside him.

“What’s wrong with you, Adam?  You’re like a monkey on speed.  Every take we did this week has been over the top.  Something’s bugging you!”  She looked at him, her expression serious.

Deep down Adam knew she was right.  He’d been feeling off all week, ‘off’ being an understatement.  He’d just preferred sticking to the illusion that everything would run itself out in the end.  Though if he was honest with himself, he didn’t think there was much of a chance of that happening.  Tiredly, he rubbed his face.  Damn.

“You’re right, Lane,” he admitted finally.  “Something’s been eating at me, and I can’t seem to get rid of it.  Can’t push it away.”

She nodded.  “Denial never works.  Whatever it is, you need to face it.  It’s affecting what we’re trying to achieve here, so better deal with it.”

Her no-nonsense words were like a punch to the gut, making him feel raw all over.

“Deal with it?” he repeated, his voice hoarse, desperate.  “I would, if I only knew how!  I feel so… so trapped--like the walls are closing in on me, or some such shit.  You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  He buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

“Then tell me,” she said.  “Or if you can’t talk to me, speak to somebody else.”

Surprisingly he found that he could talk to her.  Beginning was the hardest part, but he doggedly pushed himself through it.  After the first few stammered sentences it was as if a dam had broken, and the words were flowing faster and faster.  He told Lane what had happened to him in the desert, but he still wasn’t able to talk about Tommy, so he concentrated on what had gone on between Kris and himself, and how, in the end, he had basically fled from the hospital in Bahrain, leaving Kris behind all alone, without anybody there to care for him.

“I think I could have helped him through the worst of it,” he admitted to Lane.  “But I didn’t have it in me.  I felt next to no compassion for him then.  I don’t want to feel any now.  But I do.  I really fucking do.  And to think that I ran past him for weeks, never noticing him!  And when I did, I fucking ran away again.  Like a total coward!”

His voice broke on the last word, and he was crying again.  Lane pulled his head to her shoulder, stroking his hair gently.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked, when his sobbing had quieted down.

“I...  I guess that I should try to find him,” he said, haltingly.  “I don’t think I’ll ever be at peace with myself if I don’t.  Christ, he looked so bad!Like death warmed over.  There were bruises on his face, like somebody beat him up.”  He shivered, remembering.

“I don’t think he could have gone far,” said Lane.  “Not if he’s as poorly as you say.  If you really wanted to find him, you could try the soup kitchens, or the shelters, you know?”  She looked at him expectantly.

Adam realized it was probably good advice.  Still he couldn’t help feeling pushed again.  Somehow he seemed to be kind of sensitive to that these days.  Wearily he smiled at Lane.  It came out rather subdued, but it felt more real than all the singing he had done lately.

“Thanks, Lane.  You’re a great friend.  I think I needed this wake-up call.  I’m going to ask around at the shelters like you said, and the kitchens.  Seems like a good plan.”

“And I’ll clear your schedule for the next two days,” she said, getting up.  “But I expect you back on Thursday.  And then I want to hear true singing, and not the shouting we had to suffer through this week!”

Adam stepped up to her and hugged her tightly.  “Okay, Lane.  And thank you again.  You’re the best.”

His good mood lasted until he was lying in his bed that night.  He couldn’t stop wondering about what the hell he was going to do with Kris when he finally found him, and he kept playing scenarios in his mind till he thought his head was going to burst with them.  It was another bad night, and it made him realize that it probably wouldn’t get any better until he saw this whole mess through.  This was as much about saving Kris as it was about saving himself.  Sounded dramatic, but there he was.

The following morning he was in a cautiously optimistic mood when he jumped into his convertible and began the search.  He had put a few things together which he thought Kris might need: clean clothes, a sleeping bag, food, shampoo, conditioner.  Though, from what he remembered of Kris’ hair, scissors would have been more like it.  Shaking his head at himself he took off.

Only, finding Kris turned out to be more difficult than he’d expected.  Adam tried the shelters, soup kitchens, churches; not only didn’t he find Kris, but no one had seen him in these places, either.

His skin literally itched when he returned home late in the evening.  He showered as hot as he could stand it, while in his mind the faces of the many homeless people he’d talked to that day lingered.  He’d never seen so much misery in his life.  So much hopelessness.

He wasn’t any more successful the next day.  That night, the dreams about his captivity returned, and they were a lot worse than reality had been.  In these nightmares he was the one the Sultan flogged half to death and left to rot in a cell.  He was the one who was lying alone in the dark, suffering, and when he woke up he was bathed in sweat and his throat hurt from screaming.

In the morning he called Lane and told her to cancel everything that was scheduled for the nearer future.  He was such a mess, his voice was a mess.  There was no way he would be able to record an album like this.  Now that he finally had started looking for Kris, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until he found him.


	2. Chapter 2

Day six of the search and no end in sight.  Adam had tried all the places of day one again and was at his wit’s end.  The day before, he’d checked the beaches and parks.  Hell, he’d been everyfuckingwhere he could imagine going if he were homeless, and the whole thing wore him down.  He felt as ghostlike as Kris had looked when he’d seen him almost a month ago.  He pulled over to the curb, killed the machine, and tilted his head back against the head rest.  Over the din of the traffic he could hear the radio play an older Chili Peppers number, uncharacteristically quiet and a bit sad.

He hummed along, trying to remember.  “…sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner, sometimes I feel like my only friend…”

Okay.  Something to do with bridges?  ‘Under the Bridge’, that was it.  Bridge?  Damn.  And shit.  The bridges.  How hadn’t he thought of that?  Only, there were many bridges in LA.  So where should he start looking?  He had no idea.

He got his cell out and called home.  Maybe Juanita would know.

A few rings, then she picked up.

“Yes?”  Astonishing, how much impatience a single word could convey.

“Juanita, it’s me.”

“I know.”

Right, caller ID.  Could he hear her foot tapping?  He thought he could.

“Juanita, I’m calling to ask…  What’s that noise?”

“I’m vacuuming.”

“Stop that!  This is important.”

A snort, and the roar ceased.

“What do you want, Mr. Lambert?”

“Do you happen to know under which bridges the homeless sleep?”

There was a stony silence at the other end.

Then, “You keep me from doing my work to ask me that?  And how would I know?  Do you think I live there?  Are you implying my family does?  Because we are from Mexico, huh?!”

“Shit, no!”

“Because if you do, then--”

“Juanita, please!  I didn’t mean any of that.  I’m sorry, okay?  It’s just, I’m really, really desperate.  I need to find somebody, and I don’t know where to look.  So I thought I’d ask you.  But since you don’t know either, I’ll be heading home now.”

“Hmm,” she grumbled.  “I didn’t say that, Mr. Lambert.”  She paused, while Adam sat there with clenched hands, barely refrained from pulling his hair.

“Try the freeway bridges in downtown LA, along the river,” she said finally, in a much softer tone.

“Okay.  Thank you, Juanita.  And sorry, for, you know…”

“Yes,” she replied and promptly hung up on him.

He was tired and it was getting dark fast.  But maybe that was good, because in the evenings people tended to be at home, wherever that was.  Okay.  There were about nine bridges downtown spanning the river, he thought, and Buena Vista--Broadway was the closest.  He made a sharp turn and sped off.

Thirty minutes later he had parked his car and was walking toward the space under the bridge.  As he came closer, he could hear voices echoing under it, and there were dark shapes moving in the flickering light of a little fire.  He was beginning to wonder if it had been a good idea coming here alone at this time when, out of the shadows, a group of four, no, five men appeared in front of him.

He never had a chance.  Minutes later he found himself on the pavement, dazed and completely naked, his wallet and everything else of worth gone.  His left eye was already swelling shut and his belly hurt like a motherfucker from where those assholes had kicked him.  Very cautiously he tried to sit up.  No.  No way.  The world lurched, together with his stomach.  Panting and trying not to, because, fuck, breathing was painful, he sank back down.

“You’re an idiot,” a quiet voice remarked somewhere above him.

Adam squinted up groggily, but his vision was still a bit blurry and it was rather dark, so he couldn’t see much.

“Help…” he croaked, and then the roar in his ears grew incredibly louder and darkness swallowed him up.

 

~~~~~

 

Oh.  God.  Damn.  Fate was a bitch.  A cruel bitch, for putting the man of his dreams--and nightmares--in his hands.  The man he wasn’t sure he wanted to run to or rather run from.  Slowly, his heart racing at top speed, Kris knelt down at Adam’s side to look him over.  He couldn’t see much in the faint light, but one eye seemed pretty bad, and there was a dark trickle of what had to be blood sluggishly seeping out of Adam’s nose.  Kris had watched what had happened, how the thugs had whacked Adam over the head and then, when he had collapsed, kicked him a few times.  It hadn’t seemed that bad.  Kris had seen--and received—far worse.  Carefully he checked Adam’s head for injuries and found a small lump on its back.  Shit.

What to do now?  He had no cell, of course, and calling out for help in this area would only invite more trouble.  Fuck.  That lump and the eye needed to be cooled to stop them from swelling further.  Cursing himself, Kris got behind Adam, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him toward his shelter.  It wasn’t much, consisting mainly of tarp and stacks of cardboard, but there were a small lantern and clean water.

By the time he had dragged Adam into it, Kris was out of breath.  Adam was heavier than he looked, and the fact that he was totally dead weight didn’t help any.

“You great big oaf,” Kris muttered as he wet a larger piece of cloth to wrap it around Adam’s head, covering both the swelling eye and the bump on the back.  With another wet rag he cleaned him up as best as he could.  It wasn’t an easy task.  Now that the first shock had passed, the proximity of Adam’s naked body made his hands tremble, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally done.  Sitting back, he looked at the unconscious man.

He couldn’t help noticing that Adam had changed since the harem.  For one, he’d put on a bit of weight, and it suited him.  The hair, though still black, was shorter now, but he’d kept the blue highlights.  His chest, which been shaved at the palace, was sporting now short and black hair that peppered his pectorals.  Strange.  Wasn’t Adam a redhead?  Who the hell dyed their chest-hair?

Involuntarily, Kris’ gaze followed the narrow black trail that led south.  Trimmed black reigned down there, too, and Adam’s legs were, while lean and muscled, smooth like a woman’s.  Kris shook his head.  If these were the requirements of life as a rock star…  He wanted to laugh about it.

But he couldn’t look away.  His eyes remained glued to Adam’s naked body, to his chest that was rising and sinking in the even rhythm of his breathing, his long, toned legs, and especially to what lay in between.  So harmless and innocent now, looking soft and velvety, asleep in its nest of black curls.  Kris leaned closer, slowly reaching out until his fingers were hovering above it, only a hair’s breadth away.  Just then Adam twitched and uttered a moan, and Kris quickly withdrew his hand, suddenly out of breath and panting as if he’d run a mile.

It took him a long time to calm down, and when he did, he noticed that Adam had begun to shiver slightly.  The night wasn’t cold enough to warrant that, so maybe that meant shock was setting in?  Probably not a good sign.  Hell if he knew.  Anyway, he needed to keep him warm, but how?  He had a set of spare clothes, but they would never fit him.  And he really didn’t want to jostle Adam’s body too much.

He figured he had no choice, either way.  Sighing, he doused the lantern and lay down on the cardboard that made up his mattress, awkwardly snuggling up to the other man as close as he could before spreading his zipped-open sleeping bag over the two of them.  There.  He’d done what he could.  Hopefully Adam would feel better in the morning.  Kris would just have to get away from him before he felt too good.  For that confrontation he wasn’t ready yet, and probably would never be.

But damn, even though his mind was screaming at him to run, and there was a constant underlying fear coursing through him, he couldn’t help noticing that this felt kind of nice.  So warm; and Adam smelled so damn good.  It was the first time he had shared a bed--well, cardboard, he amended--since his captivity, and the closeness was as unfamiliar as it was comforting.  Thank God Adam was unconscious and unlikely to wake up any time soon.  Kris swallowed hard and stayed where he was, forcing himself to relax so that he could enjoy this while it lasted.  He wouldn’t have believed it possible, but at one point during the night he fell asleep.

 

~~~~~

 

It was the sound of traffic very close by that woke him.  Slowly he lifted his head, owlishly blinking around to make sense of things in the gray light of early dawn.  His head hurt like he had a really bad hangover, and his back felt cramped and his side tender in places.  Really, this was the hardest futon he’d ever lain on.  He racked his brain, trying to remember, but came up with nothing.  This was no bed he knew.  So who was the guy cuddling up to him?  He couldn’t see his face; it was kind of pressed into Adam’s neck, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there.  Mm.

Adam blinked again, and again.  No.  It didn’t get any better.  What the hell--?  Groaning, he let his head sink back down.  No more drugs, he promised himself.  He definitely was too old for this shit.

After a while he tried once more to take stock of the situation.  He was naked, okay.  He always slept like this--he loved the feel of crisp, smooth cotton against his skin.  Only, this was no cotton; this was…what?  He squinted at his surroundings.  Cardboard?  A sleeping bag?  A guitar case in the corner?  Huh?  He was on a fucking campsite, and he absolutely couldn’t remember getting there.

From outside he heard a new noise: the unmistakable splashing of urine hitting a concrete wall.  Rather close, too.  What kind of run-down joint was this?  He cleared his throat.

“Uh, hey!”

It came out rather weakly.  The other man snored softly on.  Adam tried again, louder.

“HEY!  Wake up!”

This time it worked.  The man sat up abruptly, hair totally tousled and hanging in his face.  Adam stared, open-mouthed, but then it hit him and the memories of last night set back in.  Damn.  Kris was right and Adam was an idiot.  How stupid could he be?  Probably he was lucky he was still alive.

Kris didn’t even look at him; instead he was scooting as far away from Adam as was possible in the confined space of the makeshift tent.  The expression on his face was close to pure terror and he was shivering, for God’s sake!  Adam so couldn’t deal with that right now.

“Shit, Kris.  Stop that, please!  I’m feeling real lousy.  My head hurts!  Could you possibly get me a coffee?”

Kris didn’t reply, but after a few seconds he crawled over to a cardboard box and rummaged around in it.  A short time later he had a camping cooker set up.  He positioned a pot on it, poured water in and when it started to cook he added ground coffee from a can as well as some sugar.  It didn’t smell half bad.  He produced a chipped cup, poured the brew and offered it to Adam, still keeping his distance.

“You need to let the dregs settle,” he muttered, sitting back.

Adam nodded.  “Thanks.”

Slowly he sipped the hot strong liquid.  It was not as good as the Sultan’s mocha, but not bad either, and it effectively swept the cobwebs from his brain.

“Thanks for saving me last night.”

Kris flicked his eyes at him for all of a second before looking away again.

“I was searching for you, you know,” Adam continued.

This time Kris’ gaze stayed on Adam, incredulously.  “For me?  Why would you?”

“Couldn’t get you out of my mind,” Adam said, wanting to make the reply sound flippant, and failing utterly.

Kris frowned, obviously confused.  “I…I don’t understand.  What do you mean?”

“You looked absolutely miserable sitting there, on the sidewalk.”

All of a sudden, Kris seemed even more upset than before.  “Christ, and I thought—“  He narrowed his glance.  “Listen, you better drink your coffee and get going.  I don’t need your pity.”

“Kris, no.  Please, I’m sorry--”

“No.  I mean it.  I just need to call out, and there’ll be ten people dragging your ass out of here.”

Adam set the cup down.  “You’re going to chase me out here like this?”

Kris looked away, hesitating for a moment, but then he shook his head as if to clear it.  “You’re Adam Lambert.  You’re famous.  And you probably have your great black convertible parked somewhere close.  Here--” he reached into another box, “I found these at the beach a few days ago.  They should fit you.”  He pushed a crumpled bundle at Adam.  It was neon-pink, and as Adam unfolded it, turned out to be a pair of Bermuda shorts in XXL.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Kris shrugged.  “Your call.”

Sometime since the harem, Kris seemed to have picked up some guts after all, Adam thought as he wriggled into the shorts.  They were wide on him, and he had to pull the string so tight it looked absolutely ridiculous.  He gazed at the other man pleadingly, but Kris had turned his head away from him.

It was strange, crawling out of the tent half-naked.  One of the more humbling experiences of his life.  Even so, he turned around and tried one more time.

“If I promise not to pity you, would you at least take up your place at Chérie’s again?  It’s just--I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Kris’ expression became marginally softer.  “I might.  Maybe.”

Adam nodded.  “Okay.  Again, thank you.  You saved my life last night.”

Kris looked away.  His hands were trembling again, ever so faintly.  Adam had to tear his gaze away from him.

Gingerly, he was barefooted, after all, and the ground was littered with all kinds of rubbish, he made his way back in direction of the car park where he’d left the Mustang last night.  Walking wasn’t good for him, though, his head started throbbing in the worst way, and on top of it he realized that he didn’t have his car keys, either.  He stopped, swaying slightly.  His head gave another burst of pain as his sight slowly grew dim.  All of a sudden, the world tilted on its axis, and the ground was rushing up to meet him.  And then he knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

Far, far away, somebody was talking.  Talking fast, urgently, but it was all gibberish, the words all mashed up.  It was getting closer and louder, and the constant jabbering hurt, dammit.  He thought he could make out a name, now.  Adam.  Whoever that Adam guy was, he hoped he’d tell the voice to stuff it.

But nope.  No quiet forthcoming.  Tentatively, he opened his eyes.

“Oh, thank God, you’re back with me.  Christ, Adam, how do you _do_ these things?!”

He saw a bleary image of a guy, hovering above him, looking totally unfamiliar.

“Who’re you?” he managed to gasp.

The face pulled back, mouth and eyes wide open.

“What do you mean, who am I?”

Ugh.  What a moron!

“Your name,” he grated.

“My name?  But—“  The man was back to looming over him, searching his face.  “I’m Kris.  With a ‘K’,” he said finally, sounding questioning and put out at the same time.

“Well, hi Kris.  I’m—“  He broke off.

Shit.  What the fuck?!  He racked his brain but came up with nothing.  Helplessly he looked at the blurry figure in front of him.  The guy seemed equally shocked, from what he could see.

“Shit.  Oh my God!  You must have a concussion!  Look at me; how many fingers do you see?”

He squinted.  It was hard, one of his eyes wouldn’t open properly and the fingers were constantly moving.

“Uh, four.  No, five.”  The silence told him that it was probably wrong.  He narrowed his one working eye, squinting harder, even tried lifting his head, but that was a bad idea, ‘cause it hurt like a bitch.  And then everything went gray again, and the voice seemed to be coming from further and further away until it was gone.

The next time he came to he still didn’t feel too good.  He tried to sit up and became so queasy his stomach heaved with it.

“Don’t move!” somebody said, close to him.

Oh, right.  That guy.

“Uh, Kris?” he tried.

“Yes.  You remember, that’s good.  Do you know who you are?  Or where?”

Oh, damn.  Slowly he shook his head ‘no’.  He didn’t have the foggiest idea how to answer these questions.  Helplessly he looked at the man.  He could see his face more clearly now, saw its rather worried expression that somehow contrasted with the man’s intense gaze.

“You’re Adam Lambert,” the man told him.  “Does that ring a bell?”

He could only shrug.  Nothing seemed familiar to him, not the tent they were in, not that Kris guy, not that name.  Adam.  He tried it out a few times.

“Adam.  Adam.  Hi, I’m Adam.”

The Kris-guy nodded.  Adam looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

“Where am I?  Is this a campsite?”

Kris smiled grimly.  “No.  This is where I—“  He stopped, throwing Adam another scrutinizing glance.

“You really don’t remember anything at all, don’t you?”

Adam shook his head, mutely.

“Okay, then.  This is where we live, you and I.  You got mugged last night, that’s why you’re naked, and you got a knock on the head, and that’s why you don’t remember stuff, okay?”  He kept staring at Adam in the weirdest way.  What the hell did he expect to happen?

“We live in a tent?” Adam said, incredulously.  “Together?”

“Yep.  We’re homeless.  But it’s not so bad.  You sing and I play guitar and we get by OK.”

Homeless.  Well, that explained the guy’s appearance, anyway.  Adam couldn’t help wondering if he looked the same way.  He hoped not.  “So we’re friends?” he asked.

Biting his lips, Kris lowered his gaze.  When he flicked his eyes back up at Adam, he looked rather determined, but there was a cute blush rising on his cheeks.

“More than that, Adam.  We’re lovers.”

Adam felt his heart skip a beat.

“I’m gay?” he asked, tentatively.

Kris nodded emphatically.  “Like a Christmas tree.  Always were.”

Strangely, that was the only thing Adam had heard so far from Kris that felt right to him.  Yeah, he was into guys.  So maybe the rest was true, too.  He was homeless, living in a tent--a shitty one at that--and he sang for money.  It could be worse.  At least Kris was kind of cute, under all that unkemptness.  Nice, warm brown eyes, a lovely mouth…  Yeah, Adam guessed he could see himself shagging him.  When that headache was gone, anyway.

“Can you get me a coffee?  I think I need one.”  He was almost afraid to ask.  The tent seemed spartan, no coffeemaker in sight.  Maybe there was a shop nearby.

“I’ll make you one,” Kris said, busying himself at a camping cooker that was set up in the middle of the tent.  A short time later he gave Adam a cup with steaming hot liquid.  It didn’t even smell half-bad.  Adam took it carefully, his thumb touching the cup’s chipped rim.  Something about this felt familiar.

“You need to let the dregs settle,” Kris said, and that sounded familiar, too.

Adam took a sip and hissed as it burned his tongue.  “Shit!  It’s hot!”  He blew on it and sipped again.  Yes, he knew that taste, strong and sweet, and the hints of coffee dregs.  How was it that he remembered the coffee but not the man?  He shivered briefly.

“Don’t I have any clothes?  It’s a bit fresh sitting here like this.”

“You only had the one good set, and those thugs took it when they mugged you,” replied Kris.  He pulled a cardboard box forth and rummaged around in it.  “Here, these jogging pants should fit you.  And try this T-shirt, it’s about your size.”

The pants were black Adidas with a hole above the left knee, but they fit well enough.  The shirt though was the color of mustard and a bit on the small side.  Tight, like it was painted on, and rather short, so a part of Adam’s belly was basically bare.

“I can’t go outside like this,” Adam groaned, looking down.  “I look like trailer trash.”

“You’re worse than trailer trash, baby,” Kris remarked off-handedly, throwing him another of his grim little smiles.  “Besides you have to, if we don’t play we’ll go hungry tonight.”

“I’m kind of hungry now,” Adam complained.  Though his stomach was a bit queasy he was sure he could eat.  “Haven’t we got something?”

“Nah, all out.  Come on, there’s a good place not far from here.  Half an hour’s work, and we can get something.  After that I’ll take you to the thrift shop.  You need shoes, too.”

“Can I get a pair of yours for now?  I don’t want to walk barefoot!”

“My dainty shoes on your sasquatchy feet?  Forget it.  You can manage.  Just watch where you’re going.”

Damn, that sounded cold!  What kind of fucked-up relationship was this?!  Adam couldn’t help glaring at Kris.  “Are you sure we’re lovers?  ‘Cause you don’t seem very loving right now!”

Kris took a step back, folding his arms across his chest.  “Of course we are!  Usually you’re just not so whiny, you know.”  Turning away, he grabbed his guitar and stepped out onto the pavement.  Adam followed him, but deep down inside his instincts were yelling at him to run.

 

~~~~~

 

Kris felt like he was caught in a warped version of his daydreams.  Adam Lambert, the nemesis of his former life, was trailing behind him like a lost puppy.  On his way to the fountain in the park, about to sing for money.  It was priceless.  For once Kris had the upper hand.  It was a total rush, a feeling of utter elation, except there was a small niggling voice at the back of his head, trying to hold him back, and he had a hard time ignoring it.

They arrived at the fountain.  After a critical glance at Adam Kris ruffled his hair and arranged a few bangs to fall over the swollen-shut eye.  Then he fixed them in place with a bandanna.  There.  Much better.  No one would recognize him like this, in these ill-fitting clothes and with the make-up gone.  He sat down on the stairs and began to tune his guitar.

“What are we going to sing?” Adam asked.

“Oh, the usual favorites,” Kris replied.  “We always start with ‘Dust in the Wind’, follow up with ‘Mrs. Robinson’, ‘Long Train Running’, and ‘Ring of Fire’.  I hope you haven’t forgotten the lyrics!”  For good measure he threw Adam a critical glance.

Adam looked back at him, seeming rather subdued.  “Kris, my head really fucking hurts.  But I promise to do my best, okay?”

“See that you do,” Kris snapped.

Adam swallowed, lowering his eyes.  When he looked back up, they were suspiciously bright and he had to blink a few times to hold back his tears.  Kris actually felt a bit sorry for him then, but he acted as if he hadn’t noticed a thing and started playing the intro of the Kansas song.  When it was his turn, Adam joined in flawlessly, his voice high and clear and so fucking perfect that Kris nearly fumbled the harmonies of the first verse.

This early in the morning the park was just beginning to get busy, but when they started into the next song a small crowd had already gathered around them.  Kris’ hands were sweaty and his heart racing.  All of a sudden he was sure somebody would recognize Adam any moment soon.  His voice was just so powerful, so exceptional; way too good for a street musician.

Maybe it was the bandanna, or Adam’s general appearance, or maybe people were just plain stupid.  Nobody noticed anything, it seemed, apart from the fact that they demanded an encore, which had never happened when Kris played alone.

They did Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.  The applause was deafening.  In the end, they had made more money in half an hour than Kris got in days.  Adam didn’t seem to care, though.  He was trembling all over, sweat was beading on his brow, his face so pale that the one visible blue eye seemed nearly black.

“Sit down on the stairs,” Kris told him, becoming a bit worried despite himself.  He didn’t want to hurt Adam, not really.  He just wanted some kind of, well, revenge, even if Adam probably was the wrong person to exert it on.  But he was here, in Kris’ hands, and the Sultan was not.  But damn, that voice!  Adam singing was a wonder to behold.  Even in his weakened state, he had put everything into those songs.  Kris, who thought himself to be quite a cynic after his time as concubine, couldn’t stop the little smile on his face.

“I’m going to get us breakfast,” he announced, patting Adam’s back.  “Wait here, I’ll hurry.”

“Thanks, Kris,” Adam said quietly, closing his eyes.

Kris went and bought the hugest breakfast he’d had in ages.  On his way back he noticed a police car slowly cruise the neighborhood.  Maybe the search for Adam had already begun?  He’d have to be careful where they went for a while, he thought.

After they had eaten, Adam was still not feeling so well, so he brought him back to the tent and settled him on the sleeping bag, as comfortably as possible.  He waited until he had fallen asleep, before he went and got him shoes and two sets of clothes.  He also bought a toothbrush which he unpacked and brushed over his jacket a few times to make it look used.

When he returned, Adam was still sleeping.  Kris was glad to see that there was already a bit more color on his face.  He decided to let him rest and went back to the park to play some more.  Not for money, after this morning there was no immediate need for it; he just fooled around on the strings and hummed along.  It was nice, playing just for fun again.  After a while, his mind veered off, and he began to think up scenarios for the night.  They were supposed to be lovers, after all.  Kris just needed to make clear who the boss here was.  And that certainly wasn’t going to be Adam.

 

~~~~~

 

Still caught in a bit of a rush from too much adrenaline, Kris got pizza for the evening.  He set one carton next to Adam, and then gently shook him awake.  “Capers and anchovies, just the way you like it,” he said, smiling.  “And a box of Sangria to wash it down.  What say you?”

Adam slowly sat up.  Sleepily, he rubbed his eyes and sniffed the smell wafting up from the pizza box.  “Thanks, Kris,” he muttered, looking up with a short smile.  “I’m really hungry.”

Kris sat down with his own pizza and watched Adam flip the lid open and take a cautious bite before he dug in himself.  His first bite nearly stuck in his throat, though, when Adam almost immediately pulled a face.

“This is how I like it?  Guh.  Either you don’t know me that well, or my taste buds must have been rearranged somehow.  If I eat more of this I’m going to puke.  What do you have?  Can we switch?”

Kris laughed awkwardly.  “Pepperoni and double cheese.  Want to try it?”

In the end Kris ate the anchovy pizza, his heart still working double time.  That had been close.  A few more mistakes like that, and Adam might begin to doubt him for real.  Thankfully, he still seemed to trust him for now.  Well, as long as it lasted…

“Here, have some more wine,” Kris said, filling Adam’s chipped cup once more before topping his own.  They both drank.  The sangria didn’t taste great exactly, but at this moment Kris really relished the feeling of warmth it made course through his body, and the lightheadedness.  Of the corner of his eye he watched how Adam, after taking a few sips, made that face again.  Didn’t like it much, did he?  Probably not what he was used to, Kris thought uncharitably.

Afterward he produced the toothbrush for Adam and they got ready for the night.  Outside it was dark already, so Kris lit the small lantern.

Adam had sat down on the sleeping bag and was fiddling with its zipper.  He looked terribly tense, almost as if he’d read Kris’ mind.  For a moment, Kris hesitated, not sure if he really should go through with his plan.  But then he shrugged, and slowly pulled off his clothes.  When he was naked he plunked down next to Adam, who had been carefully averting his eyes.

“How’re you feeling, baby,” Kris murmured suggestively, throwing him a leering glance.  “Ready to bring back some old memories--or to make new ones?”

At first Adam flinched away from him, but then he recovered and shook his head.  “Are you joking?  I’m not sure I can do that.  It would be like… like fucking a stranger!”

Kris scowled.  He didn’t know why, but something inside of him made him lash out.  “You didn’t mind fucking strangers in the past.  Don’t tell me a knock on the head made you a prude!”

Adam frowned at him.  “You know, the way you keep treating me makes me wonder what kind of relationship this is.  It’s not that I don’t like you.  You’re cute and all, and I can tell you’re really good on the guitar.  But…”  He shook his head, looking completely lost.

Okay, time to switch tactics.  Kris reached over and took his hand.  “Adam, look, I was worried about you.  You gave me quite a shock this morning.  Maybe I’m not back to my old self, either.  I’m sorry if I treated you badly, okay?”

He gave Adam’s hand a gentle squeeze.  “Let me show you how good the two of us are!  You’ll love it, I promise!  You always did.”

Adam hesitated, his eyes on Kris, assessing him.  “Okay.  I guess we can try it.  Maybe you’re right and it will help me remember.  But I need you to promise me something: if I tell you to stop, it’s stop.”

Kris nodded.  “Okay.  Say the word, and I’ll stop.  But you won’t say it.”

He smiled at Adam with a lot more warmth now.  “Come one, baby, lose the clothes and move over!”

Adam complied, still looking nervous and unhappy, and shortly later they were lying on the sleeping bag, facing each other.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Kris said, leaning over.

Slowly he touched his lips to Adam’s.  The other man closed his eyes with a sigh, like someone giving himself up to his fate.  It wasn’t that he didn’t open up under Kris’ mouth, he did, and he was reciprocating and meeting Kris’ tongue with his, but it was nothing like Kris had imagined it to be.

When he’d watched Adam with Tommy, in the palace of the Sultan, he’d thought him the most sensual creature ever.  Now, there was nothing of that sensuality, no heat and no fire, not even the tiniest spark.

Kris doubled his efforts, exploring Adam’s mouth, teasing his tongue, trying almost desperately to elicit some kind of response.  When it came, it was different from what he’d wanted to achieve.

Suddenly jumping back to life, Adam pushed him away, with so much force that Kris fell off the sleeping bag and landed on the bare cardboard.

“Hey!” he protested, but inside all he was feeling was fear.

Adam’s gaze was stormy.  “No, Kris!  This feels all kinds of wrong to me!  If we carry on like this, I’ll end up hating you.”

“But—“ Kris sputtered.

“No!” Adam said firmly.  “No.  If we do this, we do it my way.  It ain’t gonna work otherwise.”

Well, shit.  Double damn, and fuck it all to hell.  Kris didn’t even know curses that would be appropriate in this situation.  Just when he’d thought he had the upper hand for once, the other man had turned the tables on him.  What now?  If he didn’t go along with his request, Adam might start doubting the truth of Kris’ words again.  And then what?  Maybe, just maybe this was the moment where he should tell Adam the truth?  Okay, Adam would be angry.  Kris could deal with that.  But Adam would also be gone from his life afterward.

Oh, God.  Kris took a few deep breaths.  He was fucked however he put it.  He forced a smile onto his face.

“Okay,” he said.  “Okay, we’ll try it your way.”

He draped himself next to Adam, casting him the beguiling glance that’d had the Sultan always jump his bones eagerly.  Adam, however, just threw Kris a funny look.

“Even if you’re my lover, Kris, you’re certainly a strange bird.”

Despite his words he tentatively moved a hand toward Kris.  Soft, gentle touches followed, from his shoulders to his chest, from his belly on downward, exploring every quivering muscle and all the planes and little creases.  Like he was trying to learn Kris’ body by mapping him with his fingers.  It was so intimate that it left Kris feeling like he’d left his own world and entered a parallel universe.

It had been so long since he had felt another person’s touch on his skin.  And that touch had been nothing like Adam’s gentle hands.  Quite the opposite.

Adam’s hands traveled further down, along his legs, exploring the muscles of Kris’ thighs before nudging them apart so he could settle between them.  Ever so lightly, he tangled his fingers in Kris’ soft curls, playing with them before he finally reached for Kris’s cock.  Kris’ whole body gave a jolt, and in a matter of seconds he went fully, achingly hard.

Oh, God, Kris thought.  It was almost time.  Soon it would happen.  Involuntarily, he shivered.

Adam looked up into Kris’ eyes questioningly.  Kris waited with bated breath.  He couldn’t remember having ever felt so naked under a gaze.  Helplessly he looked back at Adam, afraid of what was going to happen next.

But Adam just asked, “Why are you so tense all of a sudden?  Are you sure you want to do this?  We don’t have to, you know.”

Kris shook his head.  “No.  I do want to.  Really.  It’s just because usually I’m the one on top.”

“I can’t believe it,” Adam mused.  “You’re so cute and tiny, and—well, it really gets me going to have you under me like this.  Look how hard I am now!”

Kris cast a cautious glance at Adam’s cock.  Yes, he was hard all right, no doubt about that.  Hard and so big.  Wider than the Sultan had been, and longer, too.  Oh sweet Jesus.  He was going to get skewered by that cock.  If he was honest with himself, he really deserved no better.  He lay back in resignation.

“Okay, big boy, then come on and do me with that big hard cock of yours.”

Spreading his legs, he awaited his fate.

But Adam hesitated, a strange expression in his eyes, and after a few moments he shook his head.  “I must seem crazy to you, Kris.  But, could you turn around?  I don’t know why, but--  Can you?”

Oh, damn.  Kris hated that position; it gave him the feeling of being even less in control.  Biting his lips, he complied, putting his head on his crossed arms.  Inside, he was tied up in knots.  He knew that the pain would begin any moment now.  Desperately he tried to relax despite his fear.

But there never was the blunt pressure against his sphincter that he anticipated.  Instead he suddenly felt the wet, gentle lick of a tongue right there.  It came as such a surprise that he couldn’t hold back a gasp.

Adam chuckled and licked him again.  Kris had to bite down on his own arm to hold back his moans.  No one had ever done that for him.  It was amazing.  Breathtaking.

Adam went down on him almost furiously, french-kissing Kris’ most intimate of places until Kris couldn’t help but push back wantonly.  Adam’s tongue was stabbing inside of him, making his inner muscles clench so deliciously, and for the first time in his life Kris wanted more.

Adam seemed to be reading his thoughts.  “Ready for my finger?” he asked, sounding smug.

“Please!” groaned Kris.

“Where’s the lube, then?”

Shit.  Lube.  Of course Kris didn’t have any.

“Oil!” he gasped.  “By the cooker!”

Adam reached over for the bottle.  At first he drizzled some into Kris’ ass crack and then there was a slick finger slowly sneaking into his hole, filling him up and setting him on fire.  No pain.  Not even the slightest hint.

“Oh my God,” Kris said, swallowing.

“Oh, already?” Adam quipped, sounding completely satisfied with himself.

“Bastard,” Kris wheezed when he had the breath.  Then he hissed as two fingers were probing him.

“God, Adam, so good!”  Holding himself up on trembling arms Kris pushed back, wanting those fingers deeper and faster.

“More?” Adam asked solicitously.

“Yes!  Please!”  God, he was begging now!

Three fingers inched slowly into him, and Kris was feeling stretched in the loveliest way.  It burned a little, making him mewl, but it was exactly what he needed and his eyes were tearing up with the intensity of it.

“Too much?” Adam asked.

“Na-ah,” Kris managed breathlessly.  “If you stop now I’ll kill you!”

“O-okay.”  With that, Adam gave him a few deeper jabs that had Kris crying out hoarsely while pushing back at him at the same time.

“Ready, baby?”

Oh yes.  He was ready.  He didn’t think he’d ever been that ready before.  His cock was hard and aching, leaking already.  When Adam carefully pulled his fingers out, Kris’ muscles clenched desperately, trying to keep them in.

And there it was, finally, and so welcome now: the spongy, slick head of Adam’s cock nudging at his hole, pushing in the first inch, and damn, he was big, felt even bigger than he looked, and it was earthshaking and all-encompassing.

“Oh God.  Oh Adam.  Please!”  Kris was panting, about to push back for more, but Adam held him in place.

“Patience, baby.  Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Adam—“  Kris shuddered.  He barely recognized himself like this.  Was that really him, whining for Adam Lambert’s cock?

“Patience, cupcake,” Adam crooned.  “Don’t worry, you’re gonna get it!  I’ll give it to you!”

Smoothly, he sank deeper into Kris.  “Damn, Kris!  It’s like you’re pulling me in!” he gasped when he bottomed out.

Kris’ whole body was shivering as his muscles strained to adjust to Adam’s girth.  God, he was so full he was aching with it.  Adam fit inside him so perfectly it made Kris grit his teeth.  The urge to move was overwhelming.  He managed to hold still, but barely.

“Damn, Kris, your ass was made to take my cock,” Adam groaned, echoing Kris’ thoughts once again.  He shifted slightly, the small movement making Kris nearly cross-eyed as it hit something inside of him.

“Adam,” he bit out, desperate now, “Fuck me!”

“As you wish,” Adam said.  He started out slowly, only moving back and forth a few inches.  Kris felt his insides rearrange themselves trying to cling to Adam’s cock.  It was beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

He writhed and panted, always moaning and pushing back for more, and Adam gave it to him, speeding up until he was slamming into him harder and harder.  Their bodies were slick with sweat, both men panting like steam-engines.

“Touch yourself,” Adam moaned.  “I’m close!”

 

Kris complied instantly, as if he’d been waiting for Adam’s command.

It only took a few good strokes and his body seized, his cock shooting long spurts of come all over the sleeping bag.  Adam followed suit, stuttering to completion with a hoarse cry that sounded like his soul was being pulled from his body.

“Oh my God,” Kris said once again, sounding unbelieving and reverent at the same time.  “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, pulling out slowly before collapsing at Kris’ side.

They both lay there, breathing hard, words beyond them.

Kris closed his eyes, unable to process what just had happened.  It was Adam who finally moved to clean them up, using Kris’ only dish rag.  Kris found he didn’t mind.  He didn’t mind either that his plan had kind of failed.  Lying in Adam’s arms in this stupid makeshift tent under a freeway bridge, with the constant roar of traffic echoing around them, he felt at peace in a way he hadn’t in a long time.  If that was what defeat could be like, he’d welcome Adam to vanquish him anytime.


	4. Chapter 4

Out of habit Kris woke up early with the first grey of dawn.  At his side, Adam was still sleeping.  Kris could see his eyes moving fast under the closed lids, and there was a slight frown on Adam’s face.  His lips were pressed close together, too.  Whatever he was dreaming, it didn’t seem to be anything pleasant.

Stretching his body awake, Kris took stock of all the minor aches and twitches in his body as well as of that strange feeling of inner warmth last night had left him with.  He felt like he had a little radiator inside, a warm and glowing pit of happiness in his belly.  He’d never experienced anything similar before.  If feeling well-fucked was like that, he definitely wanted it again.

Sighing, he got up and fixed coffee.  Together with a couple of expired pop tarts he’d got at the thrift store he put it on a small tray which he set down next to their sleeping spot.

“Wake up, Adam.  Breakfast’s ready.”

The other man didn’t stir.  In fact, Kris had to repeat his words twice until he showed any reaction at all.  Finally Adam groaned, and twisted and stretched.  Lids half-closed against the early morning light, he surveyed the tent and its interior, his gaze finally settling on Kris.  At first he seemed baffled, a deep frown on his face.  Then remembrance set in and he sank back on the sleeping bag, yawning widely.

“Kris, baby,” he said, his voice still husky from sleep.  “How you’re doing?”

“Fine,” replied Kris, not really able to hide his relief.  Everything was okay, Adam obviously had no recollection of his former life.

“Here, there’s coffee and pop tarts.  Hurry, we need to catch our audience on their way to work.”

Adam nodded and downed the coffee, drawing a face.  Probably forgot about the dregs, Kris thought.  Adam refused to eat cold pop tarts, so Kris cautiously heated his over the little gas cooker.  They brushed their teeth and rubbed each other down with a wet rag before they got dressed.  Kris showed Adam the clothes he had got for him the day before, dark camouflage pants, a black tank top and a fleece jacket of the same color, both a bit faded and cuffed but perfectly wearable.  In this get-up Adam seemed much more like himself, so Kris arranged his hair to cover his black eye and fixed it with the bandanna again.  He would just have to hope that no one looked too closely.  Adam himself was ridiculously happy about the clothes, smiling at Kris delightedly and hugging him tightly.

“Thanks for getting me these, baby!  I promise I‘ll take better care of them than I did the last ones!”  He sounded so honestly contrite and pleased at the same time, Kris had to look away for a moment to reign in his rearing conscience.

They went through the park and past the fountain to the nearest tube station which at this time of day was already teeming with commuters.  At the wall next to the stairs they set up and started playing, the same songs as the day before.  A lot of coins fell into Kris’ guitar case, and almost just as many bills.  When they counted the money they found that they had made more than 35$, and they’d played for three quarters of an hour, at most.

“If we do that during lunch break again, and then once more during rush hour, we can make a hundred quid today,” Adam mused.  “Do you think we could save some of the money and get a real place to live?  And, damn, why haven’t we done so before?”

Kris averted his gaze, at a loss what to say to that.  Finally he settled for laying the blame on Adam, and replied, “You never wanted to save.  You were always saying ‘Live today as if you’re gonna die tomorrow’, or some such shit.  We spent it all on food and booze, you know.”

Adam narrowed his eyes at him.  “Food and booze?  Really?  I can’t believe it!”

“Well,” Kris said, pointing at Adam’s waist, “you think you got pudgy from nothing?”

Flabbergasted, Adam put his hands on his waistline, examining it.  “Pudgy?  Me?  But—“

Kris shrugged, feeling defensive.  “Well, you used to be trimmer.”

The atmosphere between them was strained after that, Adam couldn’t seem to stop pouting about that disparaging remark as he called it, and kept throwing Kris dirty looks.  Nonetheless they played two more times that day, and in the end they had those 100$ Adam had talked about.

“No more booze, Kris,” he said that evening, lounging on the sleeping bag and munching on one of the apples which they had bought on their way back together with fresh bread and a bit of cheese.  “We’re going to eat healthy, and we’re going to save money.  I want out of this fucking tent.”

Kris, relieved that the pouting seemed to be over, nodded in acquiescence.

 

~~~~~

 

Surprisingly, he didn’t have any trouble at all adjusting to the recent chances in his life.  After only four weeks with Adam, he was no longer a homeless person who lived under a bridge; instead he and Adam shared a two-room apartment, though admittedly in a seedier part of Los Angeles.  They continued playing three times a day in various tube stations; and if their income wasn’t always as high as on that first day, it was at least regular.  Adam had them on a healthy diet, preparing their meals themselves.  Junk food was not completely forbidden, but restricted to once a week.

The apartment had come equipped with a fitted kitchen, nothing luxurious, but with a functioning stove and fridge.  Both had been a bitch to get clean, but they’d managed.  Now it all was working just fine and the fridge wasn’t even that loud anymore.  They both agreed, however, that the best feature of their flat was the bathroom.  Having their own tub with a showerhead was pure luxury.

It all was such an improvement to how it had been before.  Kris sometimes wondered how he’d borne living on the streets for so long.

Not that he hadn’t had his reasons.  Back home in Arkansas, he’d felt just claustrophobic; all the efforts people had made trying to fit him back into his former life had seemed to him like attempts to hold him captive once more.

Once he’d learned about Adam’s whereabouts, an irresistible force had drawn him to LA.  It had taken him quite a while to figure out where to cross Adam’s way.  Finding that café had been a streak of pure luck.  Even then he hadn’t dared reveal himself to him.  Watching Adam a few times a week buy his latte had been all the closeness Kris was capable of.  It was only now that Kris slowly realized what a wreck he’d been.

So here he was, and it seemed Adam had saved him once again.

Kris knew that his shiny new life was built on feet of clay.  Thankfully they had no TV-set, but it was hard enough to keep Adam from seeing the newspapers that were full of reports of the repeated disappearance of Adam Lambert, glam rock’s wild child.

It helped a lot that Adam barely resembled his former self these days.  He had been shocked to discover that he was indeed a redhead when his strawberry blond roots had begun to show.  In the end he’d asked Kris to cut his hair and get rid of the black.  Now he had kind of a surfer look going for him, and while it kind of suited him, it was nothing like he’d looked before.

There was still the danger that something might jumpstart Adam’s memory though.  And then everything that was now good in Kris’ life would be gone in a heartbeat.  And all his nightmares would be back.

Kris wasn’t sure what he would do then.  These dreams had been so realistic, so horrible; he wondered how he had been able to live with them for so long.  Every night he had woken up, bathed in sweat and screaming.  It had gotten so bad that he had been afraid to fall asleep and tried to stay awake for as long as he could.  It was typical, Kris thought, that Adam was the one who was able to exorcise his demons.  His presence kept the nightmares at bay; Kris hadn’t had a single one since Adam stayed with him.  He was sleeping much better and it made him feel like a completely different person.

Adam noticed the change, too.

“You know, Kris,” he said one evening, when they were sitting on their lumpy sofa and he was slicing apples for the two of them, “I feel like I need to apologize to you.  Because back then, during those first days when I’d been mugged, I really thought you were lying to me.  The thing with the pizza, or when you told me you used to be on top, and, you know, the overall way you treated me--sometimes I thought you were such a cold bitch.”

His glance flicked up from the apples and latched on to Kris’ pleadingly.  Kris’ insides were frozen with shock, he barely managed to nod at Adam to continue.

Adam smiled wryly.  “Now I guess, it was because we were living rough, and you must have been totally stressed out or something, ‘cause now you—“ he reached over to take Kris’ hand—“now you’re always so sweet, and I’m so, so sorry for ever doubting you!  Can you forgive me, baby?”

Kris didn’t know where to look.  Anywhere but into Adam’s sincere and candid gaze.  Christ!

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he managed at last, his throat almost closing up on the words.

Adam scooted closer, lifting Kris’ hand to his mouth and kissing it gently.  “Kris, if you still want to, we can do it like you wanted back then.  I mean, you can top me if you want.”

Oh, God!  Kris had to hold on to his sanity firmly, this close to breaking out into hysterical laughter.  Goddamn Adam Lambert!  How could he sit there and offer him such a thing, with such a tender and sweet smile on his face, like—like he loved him?  Oh, Christ!  To his own dismay, Kris felt tears welling up in his eyes.  And within him, the urge to tell Adam the truth about everything, to clear out all the lies that stood between them.  It became more and more difficult to shut that inner voice down.  But he couldn’t lose Adam!  Not just yet.  Maybe he could tell him a little bit of the truth, though.

“Adam,” he began haltingly, “I need to say something, too.  That knock on the head you got, it changed both of us.  We weren’t exactly like this when it happened.  Not so… so loving, all right?  More like fuck-buddies.  Friends with benefits.”

He took a deep breath, adding quietly, “I like it much better now.”

“Oh, Kris!”  Adam put an arm around Kris’ shoulders.  “I didn’t know!  Damn, why can’t I remember those things!  But, this, yeah, I like it a lot, too.”  He hugged Kris tightly, ruffling his hair with one hand.

“I’ve been lying to you,” Kris said, before he could stop himself.

“Lying, how?  About what?” Adam asked.

“About us,” Kris admitted.  “It wasn’t like I said.  I never topped you.  I just wanted to, at that time.  Now I—“ he cleared his throat awkwardly, suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable and more than a little bit ashamed.

“Now you enjoy it when I’m on top, right?” Adam supplied.  “Damn, I must have been one shitty lover before!  Another thing I have to apologize for!”

Kris couldn’t suppress a snort.  Adam, a shitty lover?  That sounded like blasphemy to him.

“Come on,” was what he said in the end, feeling daring all of a sudden, “you can show me how much you’ve improved!”

Afterward, they lay cuddled together on their mattress, Adam affectionately carding his fingers through Kris’ soft hair.

“You know, Kris,” he mused, “what is strange?  Sometimes I get that image of you, like a flashback, and your hair is really blond and you have black streaks.  Did you used to dye it?”

At those words, Kris’ heart nearly stopped.

“I, uh--no,” he stuttered finally.  “That must have been somebody else you were dreaming of.”

Adam nodded, the topic obviously closed for him.

Not for Kris, though.  Adam was remembering Tommy!  So maybe his memory was coming back.  It threw Kris for a loop in more ways than one.  Knowing that his time with Adam might be nearing its end made him jumpy and nervous, and the worst thing was that his nightmares suddenly were back.

 

~~~~~

 

“Damn, Kris,” Adam remarked one night after waking Kris up from a horrible bout of screaming, “Who is this ‘Master’ you’re pleading with?  Was he the one who put those scars on you?”

Still absolutely shaken, Kris wrenched his body out of Adam’s grasp and curled up on himself.  Oh, God.  The scars.  He had been waiting for Adam to ask after them, but when he never did he’d figured Adam was trying to be decent, or didn’t want to hurt Kris’ feelings.  Why did he have to bring them up now that Kris was so defenseless, dammit?  Burying his head into his pillow, Kris could only mutter, “I had an accident.  Fell backward through a glass door.”

Two days later it happened.  Kris had taken a shower and was toweling his hair dry when, even through the bathroom door, he heard the unmistakable sounds of “Bound To You”, Adam’s first hit single.  Alarmed, he tore the door open and stepped around the corner and into the kitchen.  Adam was standing there, hunched over the kitchen counter, his hands literally clawed around their new radio.  At Kris’ entry, he pulled himself away from it, his eyes zooming in on Kris.

A whole gamut of emotions was running over his face in quick succession.  Surprise and disbelief at first, closely followed by hurt and then such an expression of betrayal that Kris’ heart burned with shame.

And then Adam moved toward him with great, angry steps and Kris turned around and jumped back into the bathroom, slammed the door shut and turned the key.

“Goddamn, Kris!” Adam shouted, banging his fists against the door.  “Open that door, damn you!”  The filling gave an ominous cracking noise.  Trembling, Kris retreated until his back hit the tiled wall next to the tub.

“Come out!” Adam yelled again. “Goddamn Kris!  How could you do that to me?”

It filled Kris with pure terror; panting and sweating he leaned against that wall, his eyes closed.  When Adam yelled again for him to come out, his knees gave out on him and he sank into a crouching position, whimpering quietly.

He heard a last heavy punch to the door, followed by Adam’s steps as he was pacing around in the flat.  A short time later the entrance door fell shut and there was utter silence.  Adam was gone.  Probably forever.

And then Kris’ tears started.  He cried like his heart had been torn out of his chest and ripped in two, his sobs echoing off the bathroom’s tiled walls.  It went on and on, he just couldn’t seem to stop.  It was as if everything that had happened to him, from his abduction by the Sultan’s thugs, the many terrible ordeals he had suffered at the man’s hands, to that last punishing whipping, suddenly was catching up with him, and he was reliving it, experiencing all the terror again.

When he finally made it out of the bathroom his throat and his whole body hurt.  Wearily he dragged himself to the sofa and collapsed down on it, his mind in a state of total desolation.

He didn’t leave it for days, only getting up to use the toilet or eat dry whole-wheat toast right out of the package.  At one point he finally shut off the radio that had been playing all that time.

It was only when he had eaten every piece of food in the apartment and his stomach was cramping with hunger, that he pulled himself together, took a shower and ventured outside.  The money they’d had put away got him through another four weeks.

In the back of his mind he realized that the rent had to be due soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  He decided to wait until he’d get evicted.  Strangely, that never happened, and gas and electricity weren’t cut off, either, so Kris stayed in the flat.

He fell back into old habits, playing for cash (much less now), eating junk food and generally letting himself go.  After a while, the numbness diminished, a feeling of loneliness and yearning taking its place.  He missed Adam so much that his body, heart and soul were aching with it.

One day he found a newspaper in a bin.  On the front page was a small picture of Adam, together with a short report about a charity he had run.  His hair was longer and back to black, and he looked so confident and so perfect, utterly at ease with himself.

Kris took the newspaper home and pinned Adam’s photo to the wall next to his bed.  It was the last thing he looked at before falling asleep and the first he turned his gaze to when he awoke.  More and more often, he found himself talking to it, and on those times he thought he was finally on the brink of madness for sure.  But Adam’s picture wrought its magic.  The nightmares vanished after a while, and very, very slowly, Kris settled down, and learned to accept that the past couldn’t be changed.  A new sense of calmness, something almost like serenity, took possession of him and his outlook on life wasn’t quite so dark anymore.

One day he mustered the nerve to approach his landlord about the rent, only to learn that Adam Lambert had bought the whole fucking building.

 

~~~~~

 

It was a turning point in Kris’ life.  He started playing more regularly now, not only when he needed the money.  He also began volunteering at a close-by shelter, collected food from supermarkets, helped in the kitchen and afterward at the counter, giving out meals.  The interaction with other people turned out to be something he thrived on and he found himself if not happy, so at least not so terribly unhappy anymore.

Finally, about six months after Adam had stormed out of their apartment, Kris sat down and wrote a long letter.  Since he didn’t know Adam’s address he sent it to 19 Entertainment on Sunset Boulevard, hoping that by some miracle it might reach its recipient.


	5. Chapter 5

They were already waiting for him.  Not the usual palace guard, but the stoney-faced black-clad giants from his father’s private security.  Tommy had never felt comfortable around these guys, and when they grabbed him now by the shoulders with their hard hands he felt a frisson of fear take residence in his stomach.  They dragged him into the throne room, and all the way to the dais itself where they dropped him at his father’s feet.

He landed hard on his knees, but the furious expression on his father’s face didn’t let him register the pain.  Instead he pulled himself together, and refusing to be cowed, struggled back to his feet.  Only to be pushed down by the guards again.  This time they kept their hands on his shoulders, ready to take action if he tried to get up once more.  Well, fuck them.  And fuck his father.  Burying his fear deep down, he looked up defiantly.  The throne room was silent; the only noise Tommy’s harsh panting.  It echoed off the damned polished walls, way too loud in his ears.

His father rose and stepped down the stairs of the dais to stand in front of him.  Gripping his hair and yanking his head back cruelly, his eyes bore into Tommy’s like bolts of cold fire.  Tommy had been afraid of his father before, especially as a child, but never like this.  He had never had this kind of cold fury directed at him.  If that was what Kris had had to face, then Tommy could understand and forgive everything he had done to Adam.

His father leaned closer.  “What have you done, Thomas?” he growled, voice dangerously low.  “Is it true what my guards tell me—you’ve helped those two worthless sluts escape?  Acting behind my back, stealing my property like a thief in the night?  Is it true?”

Eyes watering from the force with which the Sultan was pulling his hair, Tommy glared right back into his father’s eyes.  “Yes, it is true!  I saved those two men from your clutches!  And I’m glad I did that.  Whatever you do to me, I’ll never regret it for a second!”

“Ha!” yelled the Sultan, using both hands to fling Tommy to the floor like he wanted to shatter him.  “You admit it!  You worthless scum!  Getting your ass drilled by that American has turned you into a woman!  Even my concubine was more of a man than you!”  He turned away from him and started pacing back and forth in front of the dais.

Swallowing down tears, Tommy got back to his knees.  He had to wait for an eternity, while his father kept pacing, his face white with fury.

When he spoke at last, he didn’t even look at his son.  “Take him to his rooms,” he hissed, spittle flying from his mouth, “while I decide what to do with him.  I can’t bear the sight of him any longer!”

 

~~~~~

 

Burying his head in his hands, Tommy wondered how he could have been so wrong.  How he could have felt so safe, when he knew what his father was capable of.  He’d been so stupid.  Now here he was, confined to his chambers like a wayward child; and if Adjani hadn’t smuggled in something, he would have had to go hungry.  But he was barely able to eat.  The hate in his father’s eyes when he had looked at him was still too present in his mind.

Adjani was hovering by the closed door.  He was pale, his eyes tired, with dark shadows under them.  The prince never had seen him so worried.

“Sit down,” he said.  “Tell me what’s going on.”

Adjani closed his eyes for a short moment, drawing a deep breath to let it out in a sudden rush.

“You father’s been questioning the servants,” he replied.  “He wants to know who else was involved in the disappearance of his concubine.  I was interrogated, too.  They weren’t trying too hard with me, though, and I told them nothing.  But if they get hold of Yasin, I don’t know what will happen.”  He paused, rubbing his face with one hand.

Tommy bit his lips.  “He’s half a child.  Of course he will talk.  Go to him, tell him it doesn’t matter, and to lay the blame on me.  See that you get him and Shahin out of here.  And you, too.  I want the three of you to be safe.”

“No,” said Adjani.  “My prince, I won’t leave you!”  He slammed a balled fist against his breast for emphasis.  “I swore it to your mother on her death bed and I will abide by it!”

The expression on his face was fierce when he said it.  Tommy sighed, accepting that arguing with him was going to be useless.  “Then go and get at least Yasin and Shahin out.”

When Adjani was gone Tommy sat back on the sofa and poked around in the stew that he had brought him.  He knew he should eat something, but--.  Sighing, he pushed the bowl away.  Damn, he was missing Adam something fierce.  His throat constantly choked up with thoughts of him.  In the end he cuddled in his bed, wishing it was Adam’s, so that it at least would smell like him.  But it didn’t, there wasn’t even a hint of the other man.  Only Tommy’s tears that kept falling into the pillow, soaking it and staining the blue silk sheets.

When he woke up the next day, his tears had dried, leaving white, spidery lines on the silk.  Wearily he got up and took a shower.  He dressed in plain grey cotton clothes and applied no make-up whatsoever.  Once more he went to try the doors and found them shut.  He hammered his fists against them and called for the servants, but no one came.

A look from the balcony showed him that the inner garden was deserted, too.  Not a living soul inside.  It was as if everybody had been barred from his quarters.  Knowing the Sultan, this probably was what had happened.

And damn him!  Tommy just hoped that Adam and Kris were in safety now, and that Adjani had managed to get Yasin and Shahin to safety.  Not knowing anything for certain drove him crazy.

But nothing happened that day, or the next.  He was in total isolation.  The longer he waited, the more worried he became about what his father would do to him, when he was finally allowed out.  And he felt so alone.  He guessed he had always been alone, but with Adam he had for the first time in his life found someone he could talk to openly, someone who wasn’t cowering before him because of his father.  Someone who liked him for who he was.  Now, with nothing to distract him from his dark thoughts, the sense of loss he experienced was shattering.  It was not only the loss of what they’d shared; it was the loss of a future that would have been so much brighter.

 

~~~~~

 

It was the evening of the fifth day.  Bored out of his wits, Tommy had picked up one of the few books that graced his shelves.  It had been a present from Yasin, for his 21st birthday.  He wasn’t really much of a reader, never had been, and he had a hard time getting into it.  The book started out in a very grim scene set during the First World War, soldiers fighting for survival in the ditches in Flanders, but then it quickly left the realm of the real world as the hero found a weird tree in the muddy, bloody plains and, climbing it, reached a place above the clouds which seemed to be taken from some kind of fairy tale.  Tommy found it confusing at best, and was just debating with himself rereading the beginning for the second time, when he became aware of a commotion at the doors.

“You have to let me in.  The prince’s sheets haven’t been changed all week,” a high, girlish voice declared.  Somebody, probably a guard, grumbled something in reply, and then the door opened.  A veiled, slender chambermaid entered the room, pushing a laundry trolley in front of her.  As soon as the door closed again, she lifted the veil off her face.  Longish pink strands appeared, and to his surprise the prince recognized Shahin.

“What are you doing here?  Didn’t Adjani tell you to get yourself to safety?”

Shahin stemmed his hands in his waist.  “And leave you here alone?  As if I would!  But there’s no time for talking, my prince.  You’re in danger and I‘m here to get you out!  Please get into the trolley!”

Tommy had to do a double take.  “Get me out?  What danger?”

“Please, Adjani will explain.  You must hurry, I beg you, prince!”  Shahin seemed really desperate, and so, despite his confusion, Tommy awkwardly climbed into the trolley.  In the last second he remembered something.

“Shahin, there’s a wrapped bundle in the bottom of that cupboard.  Give it to me!”

Shahin complied hurriedly and threw the bundle into the trolley. Then he dashed into the prince’s bedchamber and pulled the dirty sheets off to spread them out over him so that he was completely covered.

“Be silent now until I tell you we’re clear,” he admonished the prince, and then he opened the door and started pushing the trolley out.  Tommy felt them turn several corners, pass straight corridors at a fast pace, and heard at last the telltale swoosh of elevator doors closing.  There was a queasy feeling in his stomach as the elevator went downward.  He’d never been to the laundry rooms, of course, but he knew they had to be somewhere in the basement.  He heard a heavy door open and close, and then Shahin’s voice.

“You can get out now, my prince.”  The sheets were pulled off him, and he blinked up into the bright neon lights on the ceiling.  Climbing out of the trolley, he realized that they were indeed in a laundry room.  Adjani was anxiously hovering beside the trolley, his face grim.

“What’s the matter?” Tommy asked.  “Why am I in danger?”

Adjani scowled.  “It’s your father.  He plans to send you to a kind of military camp for reeducation.  He was going to have you abducted tonight.  Shahin managed to intercept an email, in which he told a certain Colonel Walker to make a man out of you.  His words, not mine.”

Tommy swallowed.  It seemed almost unbelievable.  Having his own son abducted—who would do such a thing?  He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Are you sure?” he asked in the end, already knowing it had to be so, but really wanting to believe otherwise.

Adjani nodded.  “There’s no doubt.  You need to decide now, my prince.  We can get you out of here today, everything’s arranged.  But we have to be quick, there’s no time to hesitate.  Yasin is outside with a car, waiting for us.”

“Please, my prince, you need to come with us,” Shahin begged, seeing Tommy falter, “your father will stop at nothing trying to make you his copy!  You can’t let that happen!  Please!”

In his heart Tommy knew they were right.  He was not safe here any longer; he knew his father now.  Adam had been right all along, he should have gone with him in the first place.

“Okay,” he said, resolve settling in his chest.  “So what do we do?”

“Yasin is waiting at the service entrance, with the car that usually delivers fruits and vegetables.  You’ll have to climb into the box that carries the kitchen waste, I’m afraid.”  Adjani pointed at a huge metallic box.  “It’s cramped and there’s no circulation, but we’ll let you out as soon as we’ve passed the palace walls.”

Tommy shrugged.  “Doesn’t matter.  It’s heights I mind, not cramped spaces.”

Adjani opened the box.  It was only half-full but the smell wafting up from it was vile, to say the least.  Tommy felt bile rising in his throat as he slowly stepped into the garbage.  “You need to take this,” he said, pushing the wrapped bundle in Adjani’s hands.  “I don’t want it to get dirty.”  Then he crouched down so that the lid could be closed.  His head was only a hand’s width above the level of the waste.  From so close, the smell was even worse.  He had to swallow repeatedly.  Then Shahin closed the lid and he was alone in the darkness.  The putrid stench rose into his nostrils, seeming to fill his whole head.  Oh God.  This was worse than the hell for infidels his teachers had droned on about.  He’d have preferred sulfur and brimstone to this anytime.

The box started moving, and its sloppy contents began to slosh gently in the process.  Desperately Tommy tried to hold his chin high, he knew that if something hit his mouth he’d lose it completely.  But soon the movement stopped and from the commotion and the noise Tommy could tell he was—hopefully--lifted into the car.  A door slammed shut, the motor started, and then they were on their way out of the palace.

He couldn’t wait for the lid to open.  The air had been fetid from the beginning, but now his head felt light from lack of oxygen, too.  It seemed to take an eternity until he heard the snap of the locks and the lid was pulled up.  Tommy leaned his head back, inhaling the clean air greedily, while the other men in the car groaned as the smell began to fill the passenger space.  Everybody was quick in winding the car windows down.  The air was still hot and arid from the day, but anything was better than the awful stench.

“Can we get rid of the waste?  And clean me up?” Tommy asked plaintively.

Adjani shook his head.  “Not yet.  We’re still in plain sight.  We’re going to a friend’s garage, a twenty minutes’ drive from here.  We’ll change there.  You realize that we’ll need to leave the country, right?  None of us are safe here any longer.”

“How can I leave?  I don’t even have any papers!  Don’t I need a passport, or something?”

“Don’t worry.  You actually have a passport, from an emergency bundle your father had put together.  It’s on your mother’s last name, so it’s made out for Thomas Joe Ratliff.  There’s a nice amount of money, too, so you won’t have to worry about that.  We just need to get on a plane fast, before your father realizes you’re missing.”

 

~~~~~

 

One hour later they arrived at the airport.  Dressed in the first pair of blue jeans of his life and what Shahin called a polo-shirt, yellow, with a little crocodile on it, Tommy walked into the airport.  The other three were dressed similarly, and somehow this kind of clothing didn’t seem to fit them at all.  Despite his desperate situation, Tommy found he had to suppress a hysteric giggle every time he looked at them, especially Adjani, whose broad shoulders and muscular arms made him appear like that Popeye-guy after the spinach.

He had gone to inquire about departing flights, and now he returned, looking slightly relieved.  “There are several possibilities,” he explained, “depending where you want to go.”

Tommy didn’t need to think twice about that one.  “I want to go where Adam is, of course,” he declared.  “To America!  But I don’t know where he’s from.  I never asked him.”

“I know,” said Shahin.  “That newspaper said he was from San Diego, and I’ve looked that up.  It’s in California, south of Los Angeles.”

“There are no direct flights to LA from here,” said Adjani.  “But there’s a flight to London Heathrow at 1:05, and they’re already boarding.  I’ll try to get us tickets for that.”

Ten minutes later he had the tickets and they joined the boarding queue.

The next problem arose when their baggage was checked, and the customs officer unwrapped the bundle the prince had held close to his chest all that time.  Frowning, the officer examined the tangle of golden chains and shackles.

“What is this, Mr. Ratliff?  Is this gold?” he asked, holding it like someone might a dead fish.

“Just a fun article,” Shahin said, stepping in when the prince failed to reply.  “A golden-ghost chain set.  For Halloween, you know.  If that was massive, we’d be rich.  Look at it, it has no stamp.”

After a second, the officer nodded.  “Yes, I see.  No stamp.  Of course.”  He wrapped it back up and returned it to the prince, who took it, blushing involuntarily.  And then they were through.

“Are you quite mad, my prince?” Adjani snarled between clenched teeth as soon as they were out of hearing range.  “How could you take that thing with you?”

Tommy shrugged, the color still high on his face.  “Gut feeling.  I just had to.  Don’t say anything, I know it was stupid.”

 

~~~~~

 

Except for the prince’s fear of heights, which had him holding Adjani’s hand in an iron grip for hours, their voyage was unremarkable.  They changed planes at Heathrow, and 24 hours after their escape they landed at LA International.

“What now, my prince?” asked Adjani, after they had braved customs.  “Shall we go to a hotel for the night, and tomorrow we begin looking for Adam?”

“A hotel, yes,” said Tommy, “but we won’t go to Adam.  Not yet.  I don’t want to arrive on his doorstep as the little prince who ran away from home and needs shelter.  Before I go to him, I want to have built a life of my own.  I don’t know how, yet, but I’m sure we will come up with something.”

 

~~~~~

 

‘Dear Adam.

I know I have lost any right to address you this way, and you have every right to tear this letter to pieces.  I hope you will find it in you to hear me out, even if you can’t forgive me for all the things I did to you.

I don’t want to try and put down excuses to justify my behavior, but I want to try to explain why I acted like I did and maybe even make you understand so that you will be able to let go of the anger you must feel.

When we met, I’d been a prisoner for so long, and the Sultan was a cruel master.  My only goal was to retain that treacherous and dubious safety my position as first concubine granted me.  I wanted to survive, though I never found life in the harem bearable.  It was a never-ending hell.

You made me feel threatened with your rebellious behavior, made me feel like a failure for giving in so easily into the Sultan’s cruelties.  Though there was nothing easy about that.

What was worse, I was so envious of you, when I had to watch how lovingly the prince behaved toward you, how he cherished you and fell in love with you and you didn’t have to do a thing for it.  You just stayed true to yourself.

It was that mixture of envy and utter fear that made me try to poison you.  I’d like to say that I was not myself when I did it, but that’s no excuse.  I am deeply sorry, Adam, you can’t imagine how sorry.  My only consolation is that I failed.  It is the thing in my life I feel the most grateful for.

When I was free, thanks to you, I couldn’t stay away from you.  I was like a man obsessed, and I resented you for it.  I needed to be close to you, but I never dared to reveal myself to you, either.  Then fate dropped you into my lap, and again I deceived you in the worst way.  I’m sorry for that, too, but not as sorry as I should be.  The months with you were the most wonderful time of my life.  You have such a big heart, Adam, and you made me feel so loved!

Losing this love, losing you, is the hardest punishment imaginable.  If you wanted revenge, you’ve got it.  But I don’t think you’re that kind of person.  I know you bought this damned building, and you never demanded rent from me.  It makes me dare to hope that maybe it isn’t only anger and hate that you feel toward me, and it gives me the strength to go on, every single day.

You’re in my heart, always, Adam, and you’ll stay there until the day I die.  I love you.

\--Kris’

“God damn you, Kris,” Adam whispered, slowly ripping the letter to pieces.  Drawing a deep breath, he wiped his wet cheeks dry.  For a long time he sat at the kitchen table, his eyes gazing at nothing and his hands empty.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late at night; Juanita had long gone home.  Adam was sitting on his new Italian couch, trying to wind down from a long, strenuous day.  He’d lit a candle, and on the coffee table sat a glass of well-chilled Chardonnay.  It was glistening with tiny drops of condensed water, and some had trickled down its stem and formed a dark ring on the surface of whitewashed oak.  Every once in a while the candle flickered and flared in a draft that otherwise was scarcely perceptible.  Adam sighed, turning his eyes away.

The couch was a design piece, the graphite-colored leather soft and smooth, the upholstery luxurious and inviting.  Decorative white seams and chrome feet gave it the air of belonging in the cockpit of a Lamborghini rather than in a living room.  It seemed to be made to just sink back into it and relax.  Somehow, tonight, Adam didn’t manage.

For a long time he sat there unmoving except for an occasional twitch of his hands.  Until the wail of a police siren a block away broke his trance and he leaned forward, reaching with unwilling hands for the little box he kept under the table.

His fingers were trembling a little as he put it on his lap and fumbled the lid off.  In the box, on top of a small heap of other things, lay a folded piece of paper.  It was wrinkled, its edges ragged; he unfolded it and gently eased the creases out.

The letter was written in a neat, small hand.  Stripes of Scotch tape crisscrossed its surface where it had been torn apart and pieced back together again.  For a long time, Adam just sat there and regarded it.  The light was too dim to read, but he knew the words by heart anyway.  Slowly he put it on the table, safely away from the wet stain, and took the next item out of the box.

It was a long chain, gleaming like silver in the candle light, with a pendant in the shape of a tear.  When he put it on, it fell onto his chest, feeling a lot heavier than its size warranted.  A first sob escaped his too tight throat, and he had to pause for a moment before he could reach for the last thing—the heavy bangle with the etched-in stars.

He fastened it around his wrist, clicking it shut.  Cold at first, it soon warmed up to his body heat, and when he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the firm grip of a hand around his arm.  His breathing had sped up, like it always did at this point.  Soon, his chest was heaving with deep, desperate breaths; yet he couldn’t seem to get enough air.  Sobbing he collapsed onto the cushions, arms wrapped around himself, and then, finally, the tears came.

 

~~~~~

 

“Yes?”

“Mom, it’s me, Adam.  I need to talk to you.  Can you come over sometime today?”

“Hey, sweetheart.  Of course I can.  I need to meet up with a client at ten but I’m free afterward.  Should I bring lunch?”

“No, Juanita will whip up something.  Just be there.”

 

~~~~~

 

It was a quarter past twelve when the doorbell rang twice in quick succession, his mom’s trademark chime.  He opened the door and caught her smoothing her wind-blown hair down.  They hugged and he led her to the kitchen, gesturing at her to sit down.  Juanita had prepared sandwiches, a green salad and mojo verde, and the table was already laid.

“You sounded urgent this morning,” Leila said.  “What’s up?”

Adam put his fork down.  “I’m going to tell you what happened to me.  I think it’s time.  And then I’ll need your advice.”

It was the first time he’d ever told anyone the whole story, Adam realized.  His mom’s eyes became more and more concerned, and in the end she, too, had tears rolling down her face.  “I can’t believe those people,” she said.  “This sultan is such a bastard.  I swear, if I ever get my hands on him…  And the poor prince, all alone now!  And Kris!  Trying to kill you, lying to you, after all you did for him!  I really want to wring his neck!  But--”

Silently, Adam gave her the letter.  She read it twice before slowly putting it on the table.

“Oh, Adam.  That’s so sad!  What are you going to do?”  She shook her head, and reached over the table to take his hand.

Adam looked out of the window at the rambler whose young shoots were being bent this way and that by the wind.  “You tell me, mom.”

It was a long conversation that followed, though both of them had known where it would lead almost from the start.

 

~~~~~

 

Kris was in the bathroom, getting ready for his volunteer job at the soup kitchen, when the doorbell rang, accompanied by loud, insistent thumping.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he shouted, drying his hands before hurrying to the front door.  Mrs. Chang, who lived on second floor, tended to be a bit impatient, but this was unusual, even for her.  It had to be something quite urgent.  He pulled the door open, preparing himself for whatever emergency might have occurred.

As it turned out, there was no emergency, and anyway, nothing could have prepared him for this.  Adam Lambert was standing at his door, his hands jabbed deeply into to the pockets of his black jeans, and he looked tense and pale, like he’d had a bad night.

Kris had to clear his throat more than once before he could form words.  “Do—do you want to come in?”  He felt absolutely, helplessly stupid saying it.

But it seemed to have been the right question, because Adam nodded and stepped through the door, walking past Kris and right into the living room.

“You haven’t changed much,” he remarked.  “It looks like, uh, before.”

“Didn’t change a thing,” Kris mumbled, feeling awkward and self-conscious.

Adam sat down on the sofa.  Kris fetched a chair from the kitchen for himself.

“I got your letter,” Adam said.

At that, Kris heart sped up like it was about to take flight from his chest.  “I’m sorry, Adam,” he said, eyes cast down.  God, even his name felt like it didn’t belong on his lips.

“Yeah,” Adam said.  “I know you are.”

There was silence for a while.  Kris couldn’t bear it any longer.  “Why are you here?” he asked, risking a glance at Adam.

Their eyes met, and then Kris couldn’t look away again.  Something in Adam’s eyes kept his own glued to them.

“I miss you,” Adam said into the silence.  He spoke slowly, reluctantly, as if the words were being torn out of his throat against his will.  “I miss what we had together.”

Kris shook his head, not really sure he had understood that right.  “How is that possible?  It was all built on a lie.”

“Yeah.  But it felt real all the same,” Adam replied quietly.

Kris said nothing.  He couldn’t help it; something inside of him was stirring awake, something like hope, and he had to look away from Adam to keep it under control.

After a while Adam spoke again.  “In that letter you told me you loved me.”  He paused.  “Was that the truth, Kris?”

Kris swallowed.  God, what else?  “Yes, it was.  I mean, it is!  I wouldn’t lie about that.  I love you, Adam.  I think I always will.”

“You said the time with me was the best of your life,” Adam continued.  “And that I made you feel loved.”

Kris could only nod.  He remembered that part all too well, remembered how much it had hurt writing that down, and how liberating it had felt at the same time.

“It was similar for me.  You made me feel loved, too, when we lived here together.”  Adam’s voice was a mere whisper when he added, “I miss it.”

Kris shivered.  “Are you…are you mocking me?  You sound like…  I mean, what do you want from me?”  Finally he chanced another glance at Adam.  To his surprise, Adam was looking just as torn as he, Kris, felt.

“No,” Adam said, “no.  I’m not mocking you.  What I’m trying to tell you is that I want you back.  If you want me.”

Jerkily, Kris stood up from his chair, at a loss what to do.  Adam took the decision from him, pulling him down on the sofa next to him with a clammy hand.  “Do you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kris said, couldn’t help saying, “but…but what about the prince?“

Adam looked to the window.  “Tommy?  God, I’ve been trying to find him for months now.  Hired a private eye and everything, but it’s like he’s disappeared from the face of the earth.  No one has seen or heard anything from him.  It’s been driving me crazy with worry.  But it’s been so long now, and I’m so lonely.”  Adam’s hand tightened around Kris’ arm.  “Kris, please—“

It was hard, hearing the sadness and desperation in Adam’s words.  Kris wanted badly to reach out and comfort him.  “You’re crazy, Adam,” he muttered.  “Crazy for asking me of all people.”

“I could move back in,” Adam said, ignoring Kris’ words.  “We could get the bathroom and the kitchen done, and my housekeeper can move into the empty apartment on first floor once it’s been refurbished.”

Kris tried one more time.  “I’m damaged, Adam.  Screwed.  What if I hurt you again?”

Adam sat up straighter.  “I’m willing to take that risk.  What about you?”

Yeah, what about him?.  His eyes were blurry with tears, he had trouble digesting what was happening.  It was all so much to take in, hismind was spinning crazily with it.  But there was one thing etched into his very soul, and he had no trouble saying that.  “I’ll do everything you want, Adam.  Everything.  If you really want me, then…then, yes.  You got me.”

Totally worn out all of a sudden, he laid his head against Adam’s shoulder.  He felt Adam shiver a bit, too, as he carefully replied, “Everything I want?  Just so you know, Kris, I won’t hold you to that.”

 

~~~~~

 

Adam moved back in even before the renovations were completely done.  A grumbling but secretly pleased Juanita appropriated the apartment below theirs.  Of course their life was very different from before; Adam had a busy schedule, and they spent way more time apart than they used to.  But they adjusted.  Kris continued helping at the center and had even begun to play open-mic nights at smaller venues.  It was all good, he was as close to happiness as he had ever been.  There was only one thing that worried him.

From time to time, Adam had rather vivid dreams.  He would be tossing and turning in his sleep, and crying.  And sometimes, he would be calling a name.

The first few times it happened, Kris had woken him and asked him about it.  But Adam had been silent and withdrawn, claiming he couldn’t remember.

Kris didn’t tell Adam that he knew already.  What use was it?  Tommy was probably far away, wherever he was.  If he were here, though, it would be him in Adam’s bed, and not Kris.  He had no illusions about that.

 

~~~~~

 

Helplessly Kris watched Adam become more and more strung up.  The other man tried to hide it, yes, but as week after week passed and the dreams continued he grew quiet and subdued.  Tense in a way he had never been before, unable to relax and let go.  And nothing Kris did seemed to help.  So when his eyes fell on the rather colorful fliers of a massage parlor that were laid out next to the register of the small grocer’s shop they usually frequented, Kris not only took one, but, after hauling the groceries home, immediately went to check the studio out.

From the address he knew it had to be in their direct vicinity, about a 15 minutes’ walk from them.  After taking one wrong turn, he found it without further problems.  Like the flyer, the display above the shop window was rather gaudy.  Bright, purple neon letters declared that this was “The Garden of Eden”, while an ornate golden script, painted directly onto the shop window, advertised “Oriental Massage 4 U”.  The window’s centerpiece consisted of a male plastic mannequin that was artfully draped over a pink sofa.   Its sole piece of clothing were a black leather harness and--.  Kris blinked, rubbed his eyes and looked again.  The picture stayed the same: A set of golden chains with shackles for wrists and ankles.  A collar for the neck.  Just like the one Adam had told him about, not too long ago.  How strange.

Well, Kris mused, it had to be a sign.  He decided to enter the parlor to make an appointment for Adam, and he’d already set one foot on the doorstep when he suddenly saw a familiar face.  Thankfully it was in profile and not looking in his direction.

Kris froze.  Like caught in slow motion, he stepped back from the shop.  His heart hammering in his chest, he turned around and fled down the small street as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.  Only when he was safely back in their apartment and had collapsed on a kitchen chair, he came to his senses.  What the hell was Adjani doing in LA?  Was it possible that the prince was with him?  He had to be.  Kris knew how close those two were.  He couldn’t imagine anything driving the big man from the prince’s side.  Tommy had to be here, too, so close to him and Adam.

Oh God, what should he do now?  He knew he simply should go back to the shop to check things out, and then tell Adam about it.  It would be the right thing to do.  Only, doing so would mean giving Adam up.  Again.  Kris didn’t know if he could do that.

When Adam returned home that night, they ate and talked and went to bed, and Kris never said a word.  For two whole days, Kris managed to push the thoughts of Tommy far into the back of his mind; there were even a few moments when he didn’t think about him at all.

 

~~~~~

 

Adam's distress never showed when they made love.  He was the same, thoughtful, gentle lover he had always been, but now Kris found this tenderness hard to bear.  Deep inside his heart he knew that he didn’t deserve any of it.  Adam had forgiven him for trying to poison him, had even forgiven him for lying to him during his memory loss.  But this—if Adam ever became aware of it—would be the one thing he would find unforgivable.

No.  He simply couldn’t do that to him.  He already had it let go on for too long, he thought on the third morning, when Adam had left for the studio.

Before he could change his mind, he went and got the flyer from his guitar case.  It was a bit creased from the times he had taken it out to look at it before pushing it back again into that small pocket where he kept it, together with the Sultan’s dog tag.  He smoothed the wrinkles out, took his cell phone and dialed.

At the third ring a cheerful voice answered.

“The Garden of Eden, oriental massage for you.  This is Shahin.  What can I do for you?”

“Uh, yes, hello.  Um, I wanted to make an appointment with one of your therapists,” Kris managed awkwardly.

“Of course,” chirped Shahin.  “Who can I book for you?”

“A friend of mine recommended someone,” Kris lied smoothly  “But I’m afraid I have forgotten the name.  I think the guy who did his massage had blond hair.”

Shahin laughed.  “Then this is easy.  Only one of us is blond, and that is Tommy.  Shall I book him for you?”

“Yes, please” Kris croaked, his heart breaking a little.

“Tell me your name, please.”

“Uh, it’s Allen,” Kris stammered, “Make it out for Mr. Allen, please.”

“Okay, Mr. Allen.  Tommy has a free slot tomorrow at ten.  Is that convenient for you?”

Kris had to clear his throat again.  “Yes.  Yes, it is.”

“And what treatment do you want to book?  Something special, hot stones, or a regular massage?”

“Regular, please,” Kris replied, eager to finish the call.

“Okay.  I‘ve put you down for a regular massage with Tommy, tomorrow at ten.  Thank you, Mr. Allen.  See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, see you,” Kris said weakly, disconnecting the call.  He collapsed down onto a chair.  Tomorrow, then.  So soon.  His heart sank.

 

~~~~~

 

That night, Kris made love to Adam.  Usually it was the other way round, with Adam being in charge, as well as on top.  That night, though, Kris pushed Adam’s hand away.  “No, let me.  Lie down and relax.  Tonight I’m going to do the work.”

He took the lube and prepped himself thoroughly before climbing over Adam and slowly sinking down on his huge cock.  Even after all these times, it was quite a stretch.  He loved the slight burn, enjoyed the feeling of being so completely filled which had become so familiar for him.

“Oh, God, Kris,” Adam sighed, eyes closed in bliss, “this is like coming home.  Every single fucking time.  I love you so much!”

Kris leaned down and kissed him deeply.  “I’m gonna ride you so good,” he promised, “you’ll never forget me, baby.”

He started out slowly, wanting things to last.  Only the picture of Adam tossing and writhing under him was too much for him to bear and he just couldn’t help picking up the pace sooner than he wanted to.  His own erection bobbed in front of him in the rhythm of their love-making.

Adam was looking up at him, devouring him with his gaze like he was the center of his world.  Well, maybe right now, he was.  Kris’ head fell back, his eyes closed.  Reaching for his own cock he lost himself in the sharp pleasure that was coursing though his body.  Adam was bucking up into him, hitting his sweet spot every time dead-on and Kris screamed out breathlessly with every thrust.  Their motions became erratical as they neared the point of no return.

Kris came first, spilling his seed all over Adam’s body.  Adam fucked him slowly through it, waiting for Kris to come back to earth.  Then he reached up, swapped them both over so that Kris ended up under him, knees almost at his ears, and fucked him hard and fast, and when he finally came his eyes were still glued to Kris’, his look so intense it burned Kris to the core.

Shuddering and panting, Adam leaned forward to fasten his lips on Kris’ neck, and sucked hard.  Kris felt himself being filled up, felt Adam’s lips and teeth branding him, and another jolt ran though his body, making him clench around Adam’s jerking cock, eliciting a gasp from both of them.  Too weak to hold them up anymore, he let his legs slide down onto the bed.  He was out of breath and sweaty all over, and so was Adam.

Gently, Adam pulled out of him.  Kris winced a little.  “Sore?” Adam asked, concern in his eyes.

“Just a bit,” Kris said.  “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”  He tried to smile at Adam, but it felt strange on his face.

Adam pulled him close.  “I get the strangest vibes from you today, baby.  Something wrong?”

Kris closed his eyes.  “Everything’s fine, Adam.  Really.”

Adam pushed up on one elbow to look into Kris’ face.  “I know I’ve been a bit stressed out lately.  But, baby, that has got nothing to do with you.  You know that, right?  I’m happy with you.  We belong together, always.”

“Always,” Kris echoed, his heart breaking a little bit more with every breath he took.

That night he stayed awake.  He watched Adam sleep, not wanting to miss even one second of it.  In the morning he made breakfast for the two of them, decorating Adam’s plate with delicate little hearts he’d carved from a crisp Granny Smith.  And afterward he told Adam about the appointment he’d made for him, packed him a bag with mineral water and towels and sent him off.


	7. Chapter 7

Adam was in a good mood.  Kris had sent him off to go to the massage parlor by foot, claiming a little walk would do him good.  And he had been right.  It was nice outside, the wind had picked up a little, chasing the last of the fog away.  Tentatively he rolled his shoulders and winced.  Damn, he _was_ tense.  It had been really thoughtful of Kris to arrange that massage.  And their love-making last night—so sweet and intense!  It had kept the dreams at bay, for once.  Adam sighed.  Kris probably thought the long days at the studio were taking their toll on him, when in reality--

Fuck.  He knew he needed to tell him the truth.  Only, he just wasn’t sure how understanding Kris would be if Adam told him he was dreaming of another man.  But he would have to talk to him, better sooner than later; it would be all kinds of wrong to keep it from him any longer.  Yes, he’d talk to Kris later today, when he was back from the massage.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost walked past the massage parlor.  The sound of somebody practicing on an e-bass made him look up though, at an open window right above the shop.  Whoever was up there played the same riff over and over again.  Adam grinned.  He knew that one by heart, the intricate bass line from ’Bound to You’.  It didn’t even sound half-bad, the player had changed the rhythm slightly, giving it an almost funky touch which suited the song really well.

Adam glanced at his wristwatch.  He was five minutes early.  That would explain why the shop window was still shuttered close.  Only the neon signs above it gave any indication that he was at the right place.  ‘The Garden of Eden.’  He smiled slightly, wondering if that was an allusion to Iron Butterfly, who were from San Diego, after all. Shrugging, it didn’t matter anyway, he stepped closer to the door and gave it a tentative push.  It turned out to be open, so he walked in.

His arrival was announced by the tinny chime of little golden bells on a bordeaux-colored drawstring.  He looked around curiously.  The shop was on the smaller side, there were a small counter--in fake-colonial design but extensively bedazzled--a potted palm tree, and a brass coffee table with a threadbare sofa in green velvet.  On the counter stood a lonely joss stick spreading patchouli.  An arched doorway that probably led to the backroom was closed off with a tacky bead curtain.  This was where Kris had sent him?  The therapists had to be very good to make up for that décor.

“Hey,” a voice boomed from above.  “Your ten o’ clock appointment is here!”  Immediately the bass fell silent.

“I’m coming!”  Hurried steps clattered down a wooden staircase, and then the bead curtain parted and a slim figure appeared.  At first Adam only zoomed in on the crazy multi-colored hairstyle—white-blond bangs with bright pink accents, black streaks thrown in between--but then his eyes fell on the man’s face.  His heart missed a few beats, and staggered back to life painfully.  Involuntarily, he stumbled back, hands reaching out for something to hold on to.  There was a noise like static in his ears, hell, in his brain, and he couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him.  Didn’t dare to believe it, almost.

“T-Tommy?” he managed weakly.

The other man seemed just as shocked.  His eyes wide and full of disbelief, like he was shaken to the core.  Helplessly they stared at each other, at a loss for words.  Adam recovered first.

“Tommy,” he said.  And again, “Tommy,” as if he couldn’t get enough of just saying it, just tasting it on his tongue.  Slowly he approached the other man, afraid that one wrong move might make him disappear again.

Tommy stood frozen like a statue, his breath coming in short, clipped gasps.  His mouth opened and closed alternately, but no words came out.

“Tommy,” Adam said again, the name like a prayer on his lips, and then he laid a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, his touch very light as if he was afraid the other man might shatter at any moment.  A jolt ran through the prince’s body and he jerkily stepped forward into Adam’s arms.

Adam caught him and gathered him close, stroking his soft wispy hair, barely feeling the tears that were running down his own face.  Tommy was trembling and shuddering against him, apparently totally overwhelmed by his emotions.

“Tommy,” Adam whispered, “look at me!”

The prince tilted his head up, like in trance.  His face was completely open, every emotion clearly visible.  Adam leaned down and kissed him.

With a helpless moan, Tommy surrendered his mouth as Adam reclaimed what had been his all along, picking up where they had left off so many, many months ago.  Everything fell back into place where it belonged, in utter perfection.  It was like coming home.  Finally, Tommy was here, with him.  He’d never let him go again.  His whole being brimming with happiness, Adam ended the kiss and gazed deeply into Tommy’s eyes, finding them shining with love and wonder.

“How…how did you know I was here?” Tommy whispered, searching Adam’s face.

Adam blinked.  “I didn’t.  It’s unbelievable, but it’s been pure coincidence!  Kris made the appointment for me—he thought I needed a massage!  How crazy is that?!”

“Totally crazy,” the prince said, with a smile so wide it threatened to split his face in two.  “Oh, Adam!  I can’t really believe it!  You’re here!  I mean, I knew you lived in LA, but for you to just walk in here?  What are the chances?  Things like that don’t really happen.”

He shook his head, smiling through his tears.  Adam reached out to gently dab them away with his thumb, aware that he himself was smiling like a loon, but unable to stop it.

“Yeah, it’s strange.  You know, Kris said he had checked this shop out.  How can he not have seen you?”

“Adjani said someone asked for a blond masseur,” Tommy said, frowning slightly.  “So he must have meant me, I guess.  But, who’s that Kris you are talking about?  Not my father’s former concubine, right?  I mean, what would you have to do with him?  Or...or is he…?”  He broke off, probably because he had seen the expression on Adam’s face.

Oh God.  Adam closed his eyes as reality began to reassert himself inside his brain.  What a terrible, terrible mess!  How could he ever explain everything to Tommy?  Was there even a way to tell him the truth without losing him again, just moments after he had gotten him back?

“Well,” he hedged, wanting to stall, but then he found he couldn’t and it just rushed out of him.  “Yes, that Kris.  He and I, we live together.”

“Together?” Tommy echoed, taking a step back, his face turning deathly pale.  “Together how?  You guys sharing an apartment, or what?”

Adam grabbed for Tommy’s hand, taking it in an iron grip.  “No. I mean, yes, that too.  But we’re also a couple.  Tommy, please—“

The prince didn’t try to pull away, but his hand went completely limp in Adam’s grip.  “You and Kris.  A couple?”  His voice was high with incredulity.  “And I waited, like an idiot, wanting to—to make something of myself first, wanting to have a life of my own before I went to you.  Goddamn, I was going to audition for your band!  And you, you just go and…and—“

Adam pulled Tommy’s frozen body into his arms, holding him tightly.  “It wasn’t like that, I swear,” he mumbled against his neck.  “I can try and explain, but it’s a long story and—“

“Oh, no,” Tommy said, inching back a bit so he could look into Adam’s eyes.  “You will explain it, and you’ll do it now.  Come on, let’s go upstairs into my room.”

Suddenly he was determined and fierce again, just like when he had helped Adam escape, when he had declared he would stay behind because of his people.  Only now, it seemed even more natural, like he had grown into it.  Adam realized that Tommy had to have changed a lot in the past months.  Like he himself probably had, too.  Who knew if they even were right for each other anymore?

“Okay,” he said, his heart already sinking, “let’s go to your room.”

Tommy led him through a hallway and upstairs.  There was a corridor from which several doors led off, all of them closed.

“Who’s here with you?” Adam asked.  “Was that Adjani’s voice I heard calling you?”

“Yes, Adjani’s here, and Yasin and Shahin are, too.  I…I had to get away, and they helped me.  We’re running this shop together.”

Adam grabbed his arm.  “You had to get away?  What happened?”

With a bitter laugh Tommy wrenched his arm out of Adam’s grip.  “What happened?  My fucking father, of course.  Wanted to send me off to a fucking training camp run by some sort of pseudo-marines.”  Angrily, he pushed a door open and stepped through.

Adam followed and found himself in a sparsely furnished room with stark white walls that had all kinds of posters attached to them, a lot of Depeche Mode and Marilyn Manson, but also one of Bowie, and, right next to the black futon bed, even one of Adam himself, in which he was all pale in black and blue and wore a lot of feathers.

The room’s single window went to the street.  It was still open.  Adam stepped closer to it and looked outside.  Yep.  It was the window he had looked up to, only a few minutes ago.  Whole worlds seemed to be lying between hat moment and this.

“So that was you on the bass?”

Tommy nodded, blushing a bit.  “I know I still need some practice,” he said defiantly.

“You played my song,” Adam stated.

Now Tommy blushed even more.  “Yeah, I did.  Like I said, I wanted to audition for you.”

Adam couldn’t help but smile delightedly.  “I love what you did with that riff, give it that funky touch.  Makes it more interesting.”

It seemed like very nearly, Tommy smiled back.  But he caught himself in time, his face becoming hard again, and a bit grim.

“Stop the small talk, Adam.  Explain why you’re with him.”  Tommy had his arms folded in front of his chest, and Adam’s heart sank a bit more at how unapproachable he looked right then.

Nonetheless, when he told him the whole complicated story, he didn’t leave out anything nor did he try and embellish what had happened.  Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Adjani, Shahin and Yasin sneak into the room and sit down to listen to him.  He didn’t acknowledge them; he just wanted to get through this tale and was relieved when the prince listened to him without interrupting him even once.  He finished with the events that had taken place that morning, explaining once more how Kris had sent him over for a supposed massage.

The room was silent when he was done.  He saw Adjani rubbing his face, and both Yasin and Shahin had tears running down their faces.  Tommy’s expression was impossible to read, though.  He gazed at Adam with narrowed, almost hostile eyes.  Adam waited patiently, but it was hard.  His heart was doing double time, and at that moment he felt like he had never wanted anything in his life so badly as the prince’s understanding and maybe his forgiveness.

Shaking his head, Tommy turned away from Adam, stepping up to the window to look outside.  Suddenly words broke out of him.  “Goddamn, Adam!  How messed up is this?  I can’t even fault you for what happened!  And even if I could—“  He turned around and took Adam’s hand.  “I’ve missed you so much, and I’ve dreamed of you, of the things we did together, of the things that we would do, when—“  His voice broke.  “And now you’re here, telling me you’re with somebody else!”  He was the picture of utter misery.

Adam couldn’t help it, he enveloped the crying prince in his arms and hugged him tightly.  “We’ll think of something,” he said.  “I won’t let you go again.  Not this time.”

“But how?” the prince asked desperately.  “You think Kris will let you go?  Just like that?  And you don’t sound like you’re ready to let go of him, either.”

“Kris will be gone,” Adjani interrupted from behind.  He’d gotten up to stand close to them.  “I’ve known him for years.  I’d bet that he’s got a bad conscience for what he did, and now he sent Adam here trying to make up for it.  When you return to your apartment, Adam, you’ll find him gone.”

Oh God.  Slowly Adam’s hands sank away from Tommy as the truth in Adjani’s words hit him.  Yeah.  That sounded a lot like Kris.  Helplessly he looked at the other men in the room, before sinking to his knees, almost like in slow motion.  Burying his face in his hands, he sobbed, “No.  No.  This is too much.  I can’t--.  Oh, God.  Kris.  Tommy.  Oh, God, what do I do?”

His whole life was falling apart around him, it seemed.  Again.  Every time he thought things were finally going to be all right, something bad happened.  Every time he thought he had found someone special, they were taken away from him.  He wasn’t sure if he could deal with it again.  It felt like this was one time too many.  He tried to suppress his tears, but they kept on falling, dripping into his hollow hands, and the sobs shook his body like they were about to tear him apart.

Through the haze he felt someone crouching down beside him.  “Adam,” Tommy said, “please, please don’t cry.  We’ll go looking for Kris right now, okay?  We’ll find him.  He can’t be too far yet, can he?”

“Yes, we’ll all go with you,” Adjani said.  “We’ll get him back.”

 

~~~~~

 

The five of them darted down the street, Tommy, Yasin, Adjani and Shahin still in their fake oriental clothes.  They made it to the apartment building in ten minutes.  Adam, though in good shape from all the jogging he did, was completely out of breath when he inserted the key into the lock of their entrance door with trembling hands.

When he had finally fumbled the door open, they all piled into the narrow hallway, from where they set off to check the two rooms, the bath and the kitchen.  But to no avail.  Kris was gone, like Adjani had predicted.  A check of the closets and cupboards showed that he hadn’t taken much with him, just a change of clothes and his guitar.

Feeling totally helpless and desperate, Adam collapsed onto the old lumpy couch.  “What do we do now?” he asked; at the same time Tommy said, “Where the hell can he have gone?”

“Fuck if I know.  There are so many places.”  Adam’s mind raced.  “The bridge, where he used to live.  Or he could be at the park, playing.  Or at a shelter.  Shit, for all I know he could just as well be on his way back to Arkansas.  I just don’t know!”  He almost shouted the last sentence, completely out of his mind with worry.  The other four watched him sympathetically.  Tommy had sat down next to him and laid an arm around his shoulders to comfort him.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, immediately followed by the sound of it being unlocked.  Then somebody entered with hurried staccato steps.

“Mr. Lambert,” Juanita’s loud, urgent voice rang out.  “Thank God and His Saints you’re here!  Something terrible has happened to Mr. Kris!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you goes to feverfewmole for suggesting the creative use of a kitchen utensil. <3

Adam looked up, wiping the tears off his face.  “That’s Juanita,” he explained, “our housekeeper.  She lives downstairs.  Come in,” he called out, “we’re in the living room.”

When Juanita entered, her eyes immediately fell on the four strange men in their exotic costumes.  She narrowed her gaze critically, making Shahin instinctively take a step back.  But then she dismissed them all, marched straight to Adam and took his hand.  “I fear a terrible thing happened,” she exclaimed again.  “I saw Mr. Kris leave with a bag and his guitar.  He was about to get in a taxi, and then two men, at least six feet tall and broad like hulks with faces like that weirdo’s mastiff, you know, the one on third floor, step up to him and in the next second they grab him and drag him into a black van—“

“Black van?” Adam interrupted her, jumping up.  “Two thugs dragged him into a black van?  When did that happen?  Did you call the police?”

Juanita harrumphed.  “Do you think I’m stupid, Mr. Lambert?  Of course I called the police!  Even gave them the number of the license plate.  Must have been only a few minutes ago, if at all!”  She shook her head.  “But what I don’t understand, why would anyone kidnap Mr. Kris?  For ransom, maybe?”

Adam and the other men looked at each other.

Finally Tommy said, “It has to be my father, I’m sure of it.  Kidnapping sounds a lot like him.  I’m just surprised that he dares doing it here, on American territory.”

Adjani cleared his throat.  “I once overheard him saying something, like, there was no place on earth Kris would be able to hide from him.  That he could come and get him back anytime.  To be honest, back then I thought that was just talk.  And anyway, how could he have found him?”

“No matter how,” Adam said.  “I have to do something.  I can’t sit here and wait for the police to do their thing when Kris may be in the Sultan’s clutches.  Oh God, he must be going crazy!  This is his worst nightmare!”

“They can’t be far yet,” said Adjani, “not with the traffic at this time of day.  It’s crawling at best.”

Just as he was saying this, the blaring of a police siren could be heard in the distance, followed by the screeching of brakes, and a faint thud.  And then nothing.

“Oh my God,” Tommy said, face turning pale, “that’s them.  Something’s happened.”  He hovered in place for all of a second before turning on the spot and dashing out the door.

He was already thumping down the stairs when Adam’ brain stuttered into working mode again.  “Shit!” he cursed and ran after him.  Was Tommy crazy, going for his father and whatever thugs he had with him just like that, unarmed and alone?  “Wait, you stupid idiot!” he yelled, jumping out the front door only to see Tommy darting down the sidewalk a good twenty yards ahead of him.  The prince looked back over his shoulder but didn’t slow his pace.  From behind, Adam could hear the others taking up the pursuit, even Juanita, who was shouting invectives in Spanish.

At the corner Adam finally caught up with Tommy, and now he could see the scene of the accident.  Two police cars were blocking the street, and a black van seemed to have careened into them.  Another police car was parked behind the van, the officers just getting out, their weapons drawn.

Suddenly the van’s front passenger door opened and a tall black-clad figure sprang out.  Adam caught a glimpse of dark skin and a huge black moustache, and immediately knew who this was.  The asshole was armed, too, and taking off in their direction.  Without missing a beat, Adam grabbed Tommy and pulled him out of the Sultan’s way.  Adjani, who hadn’t foreseen this sudden move, bumped into them and together they crashed into one of the huge metal dumpsters that lined the street, tumbling down in a big tangle of flailing limbs.

Grimacing triumphantly, the Sultan approached them, his weapon drawn.  Yasin and Shahin skidded to a stop when he directed it at his son.  “One move and he’s dead!” the Sultan yelled, his eyes gleaming madly.

Adam tried to get in front of Tommy; he had to fight for the spot with Adjani, who was trying the same.

Tommy squirmed out of Adam’s grip.  “Let go of me,” he said quietly.  “It’s me he wants.”

His father gave a mean laugh.  “Damn right, you worthless pussy.  But I wouldn’t mind killing that bastard either.”  He gave a nod in Adam’s direction, but kept the weapon trained on his son.  He seemed like a maniac, his black eyes burning with hatred.  His lips were pulled back in a crazy grimace, and Adam could see him oh so slowly pull the trigger, seemingly enjoying every second of it.

It was as if everything was happening in slow motion.  The moment seemed to drag out endlessly.  But suddenly there was a movement from behind the dumpster, followed by a dull muffled sound.  For a second, the tableau seemed to freeze.  Adam didn’t even dare to breathe.  Then the Sultan collapsed to the ground, landing heavily like a felled tree.  Behind him Juanita appeared, grim-faced, a longish blunt object in her raised hand.  Adam blinked, and blinked again.  Was that--  Yes.  It was.  His new marble rolling pin.  The one Juanita had insisted he get because dough was less prone to sticking on it.  Okay.  She was definitely due for a pay rise.

His eyes flew back to the Sultan, who was beginning to stir.  He was just about to shout a warning out to Juanita when she pulled a pump-clad foot back and kicked the Sultan unerringly where it would do the most good.  Howling and cradling his smarting privates, he crumbled back down.  A few seconds later the police were finally there to cuff him and read him his rights.

“We’ll need your statements, too, but it doesn’t have to be today,” an officer said, regarding them all with barely concealed suspicion.  “I’ll just put down your names and details.”

Adam hurriedly gave his name and address and confirmed that this had been a kidnapping of an American citizen.  Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the two thugs being cuffed and led off, and then a policeman helping a small hooded figure out of the van’s back.  Oh God, Kris.  He was standing there now, still bound and leaning against the car.  Shit, why didn’t anybody loosen those ties?  Couldn’t they see how weak he was?

“Come on,” Adam said to Tommy.  “There’s Kris.  We gotta help him.”  He jogged over to the van, Tommy trailing behind.  When he was close, Adam slowed down, not wanting to spook him.

“Hey,” he said softly.  “Hey, Kris, it’s me, Adam.  We’re here, everything’s okay.  You’re okay.”  He reached out to carefully pull the hood off Kris’ face.  His breathing stocked when it came off.  An ugly red bruise was forming on Kris’ left cheekbone.  Someone, one of those thugs or possibly the Sultan himself, had to have hit him very hard.  But the worst were his eyes.  They expression in them was terrifyingly empty, the pupils huge, only a small sliver of iris still visible.  He’d clearly been drugged.

A police officer stepped up to them, looking Kris over.  “Ambulance is on the way.  From the looks of him he’ll have to be admitted to a hospital.”

A jolt ran through Kris’ limp figure.  “No.  No hospital.  Please.”  On weak legs, he tried to move away from them, stumbling and nearly falling down in the process.

Adam sprang to his side and caught him just in time.  “Okay.  No hospital,” he reassured him.  “But if we have to call a medic you’ll let him check you over, okay?”

Kris nodded.  “I want to go home,” he whispered, clinging to Adam with trembling hands.

Adam tightened his hold.  “I’ll take you home, I promise.”  Instantly, Kris relaxed against him.  Adam closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his own racing heart.  When he opened them again, his gaze fell on Tommy.  The prince was regarding them intently, an unreadable expression on his face.  Still, Adam could imagine what he had to be thinking.  From behind, Adjani, Yasin and Shahin were approaching, forming a protective half-circle around the young prince.  Adjani’s face was neutral, but the two younger men were glaring at Adam as if they were pondering where to start peeling the skin off him.

Well, it didn’t matter much what they were thinking.  It was Tommy’s face he was desperately trying to decipher.  But it was impossible.  Sometime during these last months, Tommy had learned to keep his emotions to himself.

No time to deal with it now, anyway.  Adam turned to the police officer.  “There has to be a guitar case somewhere in the car, and a bag of clothes.  Could you get them, please?”

“No,” Kris said, “not the guitar.  That’s how he found me.  I had that fucking dog tag in the case, and it was bugged.  He must have known where I was all this time.  Played with me like a cat with a bloody mouse.”  Sobbing, he pressed his face against Adam’s chest.

The officer was shaking his head, anyway.  “We’ll have to keep the case as evidence.  But you can take the guitar with you.”

Tommy stepped in.  “I’ll take it.”

It was a bedraggled group that clambered up the stairs of the apartment building.  Adam and Adjani in front, supporting Kris, followed by Tommy with Kris’ guitar, then Yasin and Shahin, holding white-knuckled hands.  At the rear was Juanita, still looking murderous and brandishing the rolling pin.

With Tommy’s help Adam gave Kris a swift scrub-down before they took him to bed.  It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t.  They worked together seamlessly, understanding each other perfectly.  Tommy’s hands were gentle and adroit on Kris’ body watching it gave Adam such a pang of longing he felt it deep in his bones.  He had to close his eyes for a moment to keep himself in check.

As soon as they had him settled in bed, Kris was out like a light.  For half of a minute Adam and Tommy just stood there and watched him sleep.  Then Tommy directed his gaze at Adam.  “I’m going to go home now.”

“You’re—what?”  As far as Adam was concerned, home was here, dammit.  Here, with him and Kris, and that bed right in front of them which was easily big enough for three!  “Tommy—“

“No, Adam.  I can’t stay.  I—I need some time to mull things over.  This—“, he gestured toward the bed, “isn’t easy to digest, you know.  I need some time to think, and I can’t do that when you’re standing there giving me that wistful look.  I’m sorry.”

How could he sound so rational, almost cold, when Adam felt as if he might break down and fall apart any moment?  What had happened to the young man who’d declared he was in love with him?  Adam felt like he’d been hit right into his guts.

Tommy regarded him with something that looked an awful lot like pity on his face.  “You’ve had a hard day, Adam.  You and Kris, both.  You need to look after him now.  Let’s talk again in a few days, okay?”

It sounded so sensible.  Adam could even acknowledge to himself that, maybe, Tommy was right.  But still.  He didn’t like this development one bit.  “Yeah,” he replied, sounding rather gruff even to his own ears, “okay.  In a few days.”

In the living room, Adjani, Yasin and Shahin were sitting on the couch, talking quietly.  Adjani was in the middle and the two younger men had cuddled up to him, their heads resting on his shoulders.  Adam, who couldn’t keep his eyes from Tommy, saw him smile at the picture before speaking up.  “Come on, guys, we’re going home.”

“Home?” Shahin blurted out.  “But aren’t you going to—“

A soft elbow jab by Adjani silenced him.  The big man stood up and drew the prince into a gentle hug.  “It’s a wise decision, Tommy.  We’re going to take good care of you.”

“Yes,” echoed Yasin, slanting a glance at Adam.  “You can count on us!”  He took Shahin by the hand and together they got up and followed Adjani and the prince to the door.

Tommy was the last to go.  He was already on the stairs, when he uttered a quiet “oh, fuck it!” and turned around to quickly dart back to Adam.  For an endless second he hovered in front of him, then he put a warm hand on Adam’s cheek and gave him a short, gentle kiss that left Adam tingling all over and breathless.  With a last defiant look Tommy turned back around and was gone for good.

Adam stood frozen until he heard the front door slam shut.  Then he slowly made his way back into the bed room.  Sighing and weary to his bones he sank down into the old stuffed arm-chair Kris and he had found in a garage sale.  The green leather was chapped in places, but it was a Chesterfield and quite comfortable.  He curled up in it to watch Kris sleep.

The bruise on his cheekbone was in livid contrast to his overall paleness, and there were dark rings under his eyes.  Suddenly it hit Adam how close he’d come to losing Kris today, and he had to hug himself tightly, just to keep sitting in that arm-chair and not jump up and scream his anger and desperation to the world.

The worst thing, though, was that Kris would have left him even without the Sultan’s attempt at kidnapping him.  Doing what he thought was the right thing, leaving Adam’s life so that Tommy could take his place.  Tommy, who didn’t even seem to want to do that, now that he’d learned what had occurred between Adam and Kris.

Adam knew he was bitter, and that the day’s events were taking their toll on him, but right at that moment he was sure that in the end he’d be sitting there alone, Kris would leave him, and Tommy, who had now the whole world open to him, would find someone else.

But well, what had he been thinking today?  That Tommy would accept Kris’ presence in Adam’s life, just like that?  And how could he ever have explained it all to Kris, that, yes, he loved him, but he was rather sure he was in love with Tommy, too?  He was fucked, any way he looked at it.  Maybe the most he could hope for was ending up having to choose between the two of them; and that was something he didn’t even want to consider.

“You’re in a bit of a mess, Mr. Lambert,” Juanita remarked.  He hadn’t heard her come in, lost as he was in his dark thoughts.  “Come into the kitchen and eat something.  It’s no use sitting here buying trouble.”

She’d made a stir-fry with a bit of left-over pasta, chicken and red peppers, so spicy that it nearly made his ears pop.  When he was done, sweat had broken out on his forehead.

“That got your attention, huh, Mr. Lambert?”  She had her arms crossed in front of her chest.  He knew that look.

“Okay, Juanita.  What have I done?  Tell me before you explode.  I don’t want to have to train a new housekeeper.”

“Haha.  Very funny.”  She pulled a chair back and sat down.

He gave her an expectant gaze.  She cleared her throat.  “Mr. Lambert, I wonder what your plans are with these two boys.  Do you intend to let Mr. Kris go so you can take up with this Tommy?”  Her eyes were rather piercing at that moment.  He’d have loved to be able to look away.

“I’m not sure,” he replied instead, with a little sigh.  “I know that I don’t want Kris to leave.  I love him.”

She let out a big bellowing laugh that shook her considerable bosom.  “Yes, that much is obvious.  I think everyone saw that today.  Now, this Tommy, he’s that prince from the harem, right?  The one they mentioned in the papers.  You never said what happened to you there.  Did he…”  She hesitated for all of a second.  “Did he impose himself on you?”

It took Adam a moment to understand just what she was implying.  Then he shook his head emphatically ‘no’.  “Not at all, Juanita.  He thought he was in love with me, and yes, he wanted me to—“  He broke off.

“To make love to him?” Juanita supplied.

“Yes,” Adam whispered, overcome by his memories.  “And we did.  It was completely consensual, and…  I thought we were falling in love, in the end.  He was so…so perfect in every way!  But then he refused to escape with me, and now…  I don’t know.  He’s been here all this time, in the same city, and he never even called, dammit!”

“Well, Mr. Lambert, you’ve been here in this city all this time, too, living with Mr. Kris.  Seems like you both got on with your lives.”

Adam sighed.  “Maybe I was right in the beginning, and it was only infatuation for him.  It could be possible.  He was so damned inexperienced.  So innocent…”

Juanita bent toward him.  “And what was it for you, Mr. Lambert?  What do you feel for him?”  She looked at him triumphantly as if she already knew what his answer would be.

“I think I’m in love with him,” he whispered.  “’Cause right now my heart feels like it’s being torn to pieces.  I want him back, damn him!  But I don’t want to let Kris go, either.”

She leaned back, satisfied.  “There you have it, Mr. Lambert, all cut out for you.  But it won’t be easy.”

He frowned.  “Are you suggesting…?”

She nodded emphatically.  “Why not, hm?  I’m only your housekeeper, but I know you well enough.  You won’t be satisfied with less.  And if anyone’s heart is big enough to love two people, it’s yours.”


	9. Chapter 9

It was after midnight.  Adam had gotten restless, watching Kris sleep, so he’d asked Juanita to look in on him from time to time, and had gone outside for a walk.  It was dark, at least as dark as it ever got around there.  A cool breeze coming up from the ocean had taken care of the day’s humidity, and the air was actually akin to breathable for once.

Adam walked the streets aimlessly, letting himself drift; still, half an hour later he found himself in a small street under a neon sign that was fast becoming familiar to him.  This time there was no open window, no sound of bass-playing.  The shop was closed, but upstairs there was light behind the windows.  In Tommy’s room and the one next to it.

Quickly, Adam stepped into a house entry on the opposite side of the street, and continued to look up.  The curtains were drawn, but sometimes he could make out the shadow of a person moving across the room.  Once he was sure he saw Adjani--his pure size gave the man away--and a few times he saw a smaller shadow, but he couldn’t tell if it was Tommy or one of the other two boys.  After a while the lights went out, to be replaced by the telltale flicker of a TV running.

Great, Adam thought somewhat uncharitably, I’m having the crisis of my life, and Tommy has a relaxed evening watching some movie.  Even so, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from those windows.  He stood there for what seemed like hours, until his feet and his neck hurt, and only when finally everything was dark in those rooms, he slowly went home.

Tired and unhappy he lay down at Kris’ side, but their closeness yielded none of the comfort he’d gotten so accustomed to.  He kept tossing and turning, and it was nearly morning when he finally fell asleep.

When he awoke, the sun was high in the sky.  Kris was still sleeping.  Sometime during the night, he had cuddled up close to Adam. He had a surprisingly serene expression on his face that was in stark contrast to his paleness and the dark bruise on his cheek.  Very carefully, Adam untangled his limbs from Kris’ and got up for a much needed long shower.  Then he made breakfast, remembering how Kris, just one day ago, had done the same for him.  For a second he thought about carving little hearts out of something, but he refrained, gritting his teeth.

At some point he caught himself slamming the cutlery on the table, and he stopped for a moment, trying to assess what was the matter with him.  To his own amazement, he realized that he was feeling kind of mad.  All the desolation from the day before was slowly morphing into a hot burning anger that was hovering right under his skin, ready to explode at any moment.  He really shouldn’t talk to Kris like this.

But when the coffeemaker had hit the hissing stage he went over anyway and woke him up.  “Kris baby,” he purred into his ear.  “Breakfast is ready.”

A slight smile appeared on Kris’ face.  Slowly he blinked awake, looking up through half-lidded eyes.  Something in Adam’s expression seemed to alert him, though.  Open alarm on his face, he scrambled to sit up.  “Adam, please—“ he stuttered, and then, when Adam didn’t react at all, “I’m sorry, Adam.  Really.”

Adam sat down on the bed.  “Sorry for what, Kris?  For letting me run into Tommy totally unprepared?  For lying to me, again?  For leaving me?  Or what?”

Kris looked away, shivering.  Adam saw that he was gripping the bed sheets with trembling hands.  Almost like he did when they made love.  Oh, dammit.  Suddenly weary again, he stood up.  “Why don’t you go and take a shower.  We’ll talk after breakfast.”

Not surprisingly, Kris wasn’t able to eat much.  Having downed his coffee, he pushed the still half-full bowl of muesli away.  He had the demeanor of a man waiting for a death sentence.

Adam huffed.  Was he an ogre, or what?  “I don’t know why you’re sitting there like that,” he said quietly.  “What do you think I’ll do to you?  You think I’ll beat you, hurt you in some way?”

Kris shook his head mutely.

“What then?  What could I do, except for sending you away?  And how bad would that be, huh, when you were so willing to leave me just yesterday?”  Adam knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn’t help it.  The thought alone still hurt so much.

“I’m sorry,” Kris muttered.  “Maybe I shouldn’t have left like that…”

“Damn right, you shouldn’t!” Adam yelled, standing up and beginning to pace.  “You should have talked to me!  I thought we were in this together?  Since when do you make such decisions alone?”

“I thought it was for the best.  I thought if I left, you and Tommy could be together,” Kris said quietly.

“And you didn’t think for a minute about asking me,” Adam stated.

Now Kris looked at him, eyes accusatory.  “You didn’t talk to me, either.  You dreamed about him, nearly every night, yelled his damned name in your sleep, and you never talked!  You were so unhappy, Adam!  And I, I wasn’t enough for you.  So when I stumbled upon Tommy, so close to us, I knew what I had to do.”  He looked up, his face pale.  “I still think it was the right thing to do.  I mean, it was a bit like karma, you know.  For all the bad things I did to you, I had now the opportunity to balance it out.”

Adam shook his head.  “You can’t make such decisions for me, Kris, no matter what.  That’s not how it works.”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” Kris explained patiently, like Adam was a slow child.

“Without you.”  Adam had trouble keeping his voice level.

“Yes, of course,” Kris said, becoming agitated.  “Because, well, I would take you no matter what—I’d do anything to be with you--but do you think for a minute that Tommy would want to share you with his father’s old fuck toy?  Huh?  And if you had to decide, why would you choose me over him?  I thought it’d be just as well if I left directly.”  He stood up now, too, and walked over to the window, standing there with his back to Adam.

Adam followed him and with a quick grip turned him around, pressing his back against the window sill.  “Goddammit, Kris!  How can you say you’d do anything to be with me, when what you did was run away and leave me?  Who says I was going to choose between you, anyway?  You got to let me make my own damn decisions!”  He took a deep breath, barely refraining from shaking the smaller man.  Kris was evading his glance, but Adam could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

More quietly, he asked, “Tell me, Kris, do you love me?”

Kris looked away.  “You know I do.”

“And do I love you?”

Shocked, Kris eyes flew to Adam’s.  His mouth worked, but no sound came out.  Adam waited.  Kris swallowed.  It looked painful.  Finally he whispered, “You do?”

“Damn right I do,” growled Adam and lowered his mouth to Kris’, claiming it in a harsh, brutal kiss.  After a moment’s hesitation, Kris opened up to him, welcoming Adam’s invading tongue with the hunger of a starving man.  Adam could feel him hardening against his leg, a hot, burning length, and he couldn’t help the growl that escaped his throat.  Kris mewled back, pushing hard against Adam, at the same time reaching for Adam’s own hard-on, rubbing it through the fabric of his jeans.

Panting harshly, Adam pulled away, just in the nick of time.  A second more and he would have come right into his pants, and he didn’t want that.  “Take this to our bed?” he suggested, his voice breathless and rough.

Kris nodded dazedly.  “Yeah, let’s.”

They stumbled over to the bedroom, getting rid of their clothes on the way.  Adam pushed Kris down toward the bed; he flopped down on the mattress bonelessly, eyes glazed and legs spread wide apart.  Adam settled between them, reaching for the bottle of lube.  Methodically he went through the process of prepping Kris, eager to be inside of him.  But Kris didn’t need a lot of preparation, not this time; it was as if he was sucking Adam’s fingers in, and his hard-on was already leaking copiously.

“You’re so hot like this, baby,” Adam gasped, “so hungry for my cock.  Can’t wait, huh?”

He pushed a pillow under Kris, and the other man pulled his legs up and apart, completely offering himself up to Adam.  “Please, Adam, please.  Need you.  Give it to me, baby!”

Biting his lips, Adam complied.  He was going to go slow, even if it killed him, and he was so damned close already just from seeing Kris like this.  When Kris tried to push up at him, he pulled back, shaking his head.  “No, baby.  You stay put.  You’re gonna take it how I give it to you.”

“Bastard,” whispered Kris, eyes dark with desire.

Adam smirked, before slowly sinking into him to the last inch, making Kris wail when he bottomed out.  Kris’ ass was a tight pulsing glove around him, and he had to pause a moment to get accustomed to so much tight heat, or it would have been over way too fast.  Because damn, he wanted Kris to remember this for a long time!

Watching his lover closely, he pulled almost completely out, only to push back into him with one mighty thrust.

“Adam,” Kris yelled, “oh my God, do that again!”

More than satisfied with that reaction, Adam complied and began to drive into Kris, not fast, but hard and unrelentingly, watching his lover come apart under him.  Kris’ skin was flushed all over, his mouth opened wide in a soundless scream, his hands clawing the bed sheets in a death grip.

Adam changed the angle slightly, and suddenly Kris was shouting out with every thrust.  “Oh God, Adam.  Yes!  Harder!  Oh God, please, more!”  His body was glistening with sweat, and his hair clung to his face in dark tangled strands.

“You’re mine, Kris Allen!” Adam growled, punctuating each word with a fierce thrust.  “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, oh my God.  I’m yours, Adam, please—“ Kris whined, eyes nearly crossing from the intensity of it.

Adam continued nailing him hard.  “As long as you love me you don’t leave me!  Right?”

“Oh God, yes,” Kris gasped.

Adam narrowed his eyes.

“I mean, no,” Kris amended, “I won’t leave you.  I promise!  Uh, yes, like that, come on, just a little harder…”

Still not quite satisfied, Adam leaned down to fasten his lips at Kris’ neck, right where he had left his mark only two days ago.  He latched onto it, sucking hard, making Kris shudder and wail under him, and then Adam felt the first spurts of hot come against his belly, and Kris’s hole clenching crazily around him.  With a few ragged jabs he reached his own completion, still sucking on the salty skin of Kris’ neck.

Huffing and worn out, they clang to each other afterward.  Tentatively, Kris put a hand against his neck, giving a little moan as he found the tender spot there.  Adam watched him intently.  “You’re mine, Kris,” he repeated, eyes fastened to Kris’.  “And you’ll stay with me.  When you don’t love me anymore, then you can go.”

Kris shuddered when he heard these words.  “That will never happen.  I’ll love you always.  But…”

“No,” Adam interrupted, “no buts!  Not now!  For now, it is enough that we are okay, you and I.  Everything else we can take care of later.  We’ll do it like Indiana Jones—we’ll make it up as we go along.”

Somehow, Kris had neither the energy nor the desire to disagree with that.

 

~~~~~

 

“Ouch!  Not quite so hard!” Tommy’s customer complained, when Tommy dug into his back a little bit too fiercely.

“Sorry,” the prince said contritely.  He just couldn’t focus on his work today.  Today?  Make that this week!  His thoughts kept wandering back to Adam.  He’d been determined not to call him for a while, had not taken his calls, either, figuring they both needed a bit of a time-out, but he couldn’t stop thinking about him and that inevitably led to violence against innocent people.  Which was not good.  Usually Tommy was the one clients immediately warmed up to, now they got up from the massage table feeling more tense than before.

The slightly chubby middle-aged man lying prostrate on the table in front of him was one of his best customers and a very good tipper.  He absolutely didn’t deserve the rough treatment.  Okay, the come-stained wipes he was prone to leaving in the wastebasket of the changing room gave Tommy a bit of the creeps, but still.  It was not his ass Tommy wanted to kick into next week.  How dare that bastard—

“Ouch, Tommy!  What’s the matter with you today?”

It was useless.  Sighing, Tommy sat down in the rattan chair that stood in a corner of the cubicle.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.  “Maybe you should come back another time.  I’m no good today.  I’ll give you a free treatment next time, and a phial of bath-oil to take home, okay?”

“Sure.”  Mr. Vansen, if that was his real name, sat up, draping the towel over his groin a few seconds too late.  Involuntarily, Tommy’s eyes wandered to his cock, and of course, Vansen caught him at it.  Probably had intended for that to happen.

“Sorry,” Tommy said yet again, feeling uncomfortable.  What a bitch of a day!

Vansen smiled a little.  “Relax.  I’m not gonna jump you.  Just thought I’d give it a try.”  He shrugged, completely unashamed.  “You’re very cute, you know.  But I can see you’re not interested.  Shame, though.”

Tommy gave a short laugh.  “You won’t believe it, but I actually was saving myself for someone special.”  He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Vansen looked at him, an expression of sympathy on his open face.  “So what happened?  Didn’t work out?”

Tommy huffed.  “He’s with somebody else.  It’s not even really his fault.  Fuck, it’s complicated.”

Vansen nodded.  “Seems that way.  You want to talk about it?  Sometimes that helps.”

Surprisingly, Tommy felt like that was just what he might need.  He nodded at Vansen, adding, “But not here.  Let’s go over to the café at the corner.  It’s lunch time anyway, and I didn’t have breakfast today.”

When they were settled at one of the rickety tables in a quiet corner, a bowl of steaming lentil soup in front of them, Tommy told him what had occurred, only leaving out some details that were too personal to relate.  Vansen was a sympathetic listener and Tommy found it easy to open up to him.  When he was done, his heart was a whole lot lighter than it had been before.  He leaned back.  “So, now you know the sorry tale.  It’s pretty fucked up, isn’t it?”

Vansen regarded him for a moment.  Then he said: “I wouldn’t call it fucked-up, you know.  Complicated, yes.  And I don’t think it’s beyond saving, actually, because you all care so much for each other.  Love is a rare thing.  It shouldn’t be let go to waste.”  He smiled wistfully, almost regretfully, before adding, “Too much pride or resentment will make you end up a lonely old man who gets his jollies from his weekly massage.”

“You’re not that old,” Tommy said, before he could stop himself.  “I mean, God, I’m sorry!  This is clearly not my day!”

Vansen smiled.  “No harm done.  And you’re right, I’m not that old.  Though in the gay community everyone beyond thirty is considered ancient.  So let’s just say that while I’m not too old, I’m too much of a coward to try again.”  Now he was the one sighing a bit, and Tommy couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

“You know what,” he said, “there’s that club in WeHo, it’s called Pasha; and every second Friday there’s a Club Night for people over thirty.  I like to go there to do some dancing, because it is none of the classic scene hunts, and people tend to be more real there.  My colleagues usually go there, too.  Why don’t you come with us?”

Vansen barked out a laugh.  “Me?  Go to a club?  People will think I’ve lost my mind.  I’m not club material.”

“I told you, it’s not like that.  You’re a really nice guy.  Why not give it a try?”

At first, Vansen looked dubious, but when Tommy insisted he seemed to reconsider.  After a bit of back and forth they agreed that they would meet at the shop Friday in a week for a night on the town.

Back at the shop Tommy told Adjani what had happened.  The big man lifted his eyebrows when the prince mentioned going clubbing with a customer.  “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked.  “He may expect to get his treatments for free if you go out on a date with him.”

“It’s not a date!” Tommy protested.  “He’s going with all of us!  He’s a nice guy, really, only a bit older.”  He hesitated for effect, before adding, ”Actually around your own age, I think.”  Adjani cuffed him in the neck for that, and in the end Tommy had managed to survive another day without calling Adam.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big 'thank you' goes to Feverfewmole, who saved Tommy from a bad case of pavement-burn, spotted typos, and gave lots of good advice! All remaining faults and plotholes are mine. Thanks also to everyone who followed this story to the end, left kudos or commented. It's been a pleasure. Thank you all.

Tommy had continued to refuse taking Adam’s calls, so the next time they actually met was at the precinct a week later.  Adam had already given his statement and was sitting on a wooden bench in the corridor waiting for Kris, when Tommy together with Adjani, Shahin and Yasin walked in.  The prince hesitated when he saw Adam, but then he sat down on the bench across from him.  Adjani came over to sit beside Adam, and the other two sat down framing Tommy.  At least they weren’t glaring at him anymore.

“You doing okay?” Adjani asked him gruffly.

Adam shrugged.  “I’ve been worse.”

“And how’s Kris?”

Adam saw the prince twitch at question, and then demonstratively look away from them, as well as he could in such a narrow hallway, anyway.

“Kris is doing fine.  He’s processing the whole thing better than I would have imagined.  He says it all happened so fast he didn’t even have time to be properly afraid.”

Adjani smiled.  “I’m glad he’s well.  Of course, it has thwarted his plan of leaving you.  Do you think he’ll try again?”

Adam hesitated, considering the reasons Adjani probably had for asking that question.  He threw a glance at Tommy.  The prince looked like a spring that was coiled too tightly; one wrong movement and he would either explode or snap.

Still, it had to be said, and he was not going to lie about it.  “He will stay with me.  I’ve convinced him that his place is at my side.  Just like yours is, Tommy,” he said, directly speaking to the prince.

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Tommy muttered, jumping up to pace down the corridor.

Just at that moment a door opened and Kris appeared, pale but composed, and Adam got up to gather him into his arms.  For a moment Kris swayed against him, but then he caught himself.  “It’s over,” he whispered, “I told them everything, everything he’s done to me.  They’ll lock him up and throw away the key.”

“That’s good, baby,” Adam comforted him, smiling into Kris drawn face.  “That’s exactly what the bastard deserves.”

Kris extricated himself from Adam’s arms and looked at the other men, especially at Tommy, who was hovering a few meters away.  Slowly Kris walked over to him.  Everyone seemed to be holding their collective breaths.

“Tommy,” Kris said quietly, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you and explain things properly.  I know that this isn’t the right place for it, but I need to tell you that I’m sorry for having been such an ass to you and…”

Tommy interrupted him.  “No, Kris,” he said firmly.  “Leave it be.  With everything that happened, how could I be angry with you?”

Kris was shaking his head.  “You don’t understand.  It’s not only about what I did at the palace.  Don’t you know how I lied to Adam when he’d lost his memory?  I took him away from you!”

“I know about that,” Tommy replied, almost in a whisper.  “And I know Adam has forgiven you for it.  So how could I hold it against you?”

Tommy’s words sounded honest, but so desolate at the same time, Adam wanted to run over to him and gather him into his arms, like he’d done it with Kris.  He began to move in is direction, but Adjani grabbed him by the arm and held him back.  “Don’t,” he said, “not today.  Give him some time.”

Adam swallowed.  “I understand.”

“You’re too generous,” Kris was saying to Tommy.  “Even if you forgive me for Adam’s sake, what about yourself?  Adam says he won’t let me go, and I had to promise him not to try and run again, but, Tommy, I’m not sure I can do that like this.  I owe you so much!  You saved my life!  You helped me escape, gave me back my freedom!  God, when you appeared to look after me in that cold cell, I thought you were an angel sent from heaven, coming to take me away.  You didn’t hate me one bit, and you had plenty reason to.”

Kris paused, taking another deep breath.  They were looking at each other so intently, Adam had the feeling they had forgotten his and everybody else’s presence.  He noticed that Tommy had taken Kris’ hand sometime during their talk, and Kris had let him hold it.

“Kris--” Tommy said.

“No, let me,” Kris interrupted.  “I need to say this.  There was one time in the cell; I woke up, and you were there, stroking my hair, so gently.  And then you lay down by my side and hugged me, and—“  He drew a shaky breath.  Tommy’s eyes were glued to his face; and Kris had to close his for a second before he could continue.  “You hugged me, and I kept thinking I didn’t deserve it, but you were… so gentle, and I…God, Tommy!  I remember thinking that if I died in that very moment, with you holding me, I wouldn’t mind.”

Now the prince looked down, a blush rising on his face.  It seemed to take him a while to get a grip on his emotions, and when he finally replied his voice was still rough and breathless.  Adam had to listen really hard; he didn’t want to miss any of it.

“I’ve done you wrong, too,” Tommy said.  “I must have been blind not to notice what was happening to you.  All the times you moved like you were in pain, all the bruises!  How often did you tell me you ran into something!  You’d have to have been the clumsiest person on earth; and if I had kept my eyes open and my brain working I should have realized that someone who usually moved so gracefully couldn’t possibly be that accident prone.  And there I was, only thinking about how lonely I was, envious of you and envious of my father ‘cause he had you.  I was stupid and blind, and I’m sorry, too.”

Kris was shaking his head, trying to pull his hand out of Tommy’s grip, but the prince held on and didn’t let him go.  He seemed to wait for Kris to say something.

After a long while, Kris managed.  “Okay,” he whispered.  “Thank you for saying this.  I never thought I’d get to hear something like that.  You’ve been always kind to me, and as far as I was able to have a friend under those conditions, you were it.  Thank you, Tommy.”

The prince gazed into Kris’ eyes earnestly, holding his hand for another moment.  Then he stepped away from him and turned his back to the rest of them.

On shaky legs, Kris walked back to Adam.  “Let’s go,” he said quietly.  Adam’s own feet were like lead when they walked out of the building, and his heart didn’t fare much better.  He’d been relieved to see Tommy and Kris talk so honestly to each other, to see the understanding between them, but on the whole, he was getting more and more frustrated.  After this encounter he had even more doubts if Tommy really was in love with him.  If he were, he surely wouldn’t act so cold toward him, wouldn’t he?

“He doesn’t even look at me!” he complained to Kris on their way home.  “It’s as if he can’t bear the sight of me!”

“Exactly,” said Kris.  “And why do you think that is, huh?”

Adam shifted gears a bit too forcefully.  “Because he hates me.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong.  He loves you, and what he can’t bear is the sight of us together.  He still needs some time to get over the hurt he feels, but then you two will have to talk.”

 

~~~~~

 

It had sounded reasonable, then.  The only problem was that, days later, Tommy still refused to answer his calls.  The only one who ever answered the phone was Adjani.

“I’m sorry.  I can’t help you, Adam.  He says he isn’t ready yet.”

“Will he ever be?  This waiting is killing me!”  Adam sounded like a whiny kid, even to his own ears, but he was getting desperate.

There was a pause.  Then, “Listen, Adam,” the big man whispered, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but there might be an opportunity for you to see him, like, accidentally.”

“Yes?” Adam asked breathlessly.

“He’s going to be at the Pasha this Friday, together with Yasin, Shahin and me and a client looking for somebody new.”

“Looking for somebody new?” Adam shouted, not believing what he had just heard.  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Adjani laughed, the bastard.  “I might have put that a bit skewed.  It’s the client who’s looking, not Tommy.  He just wants to help the guy.  He says he’s really nice.”

Okay, that sounded better, but still, the thought of Tommy finding another man ‘nice’ had all of Adam’s alarm bells ringing.  He found he didn’t like it one bit.

“So, this Friday, huh?” he managed, trying to sound calm.

Adjani snickered.  “Yeah, this Friday.  But you need to get a grip on yourself or stay home.  If you barge in acting all possessive he’ll just fight you tooth and nails.”

 

~~~~~

 

A few months ago, it wouldn’t have been possible for Adam to go to a club like this.  Now, after all those months of delay, still working on his second album, things had quieted down a bit.  Yes, more than just a few people had their eyes trained on him and hurriedly got their cell phones out as he now walked up to the club’s entrée, but at least there were no paps following him around.

Kris wasn’t doing too well with crowds on the best of days, and today was no exception.  His hand held Adam’s in an iron grip, and Adam had promised him never to stray too far from his side.  They didn’t have to pay, of course; the bouncer waved them through with a grin on his face.  They stepped in and immediately were surrounded by a thrumming darkness.  Well, it was +30 Club Night, so the customers would appreciate the merciful dim lights, Adam supposed.

After disposing their jackets at the checkroom they entered the main room.  It housed the dancefloor, which was already packed, the bar and a small stage.  One look around, and Adam froze.  For a moment he’d been actually worried about how to find Tommy in this chaos of sweaty dancing bodies—but there he was, dammit, right in the center of the small stage, framed by Yasin and Shahin, and, God, those three looked so hot that Adam’s breath faltered.  They wore matching clothes, tight jeans cut-offs with frayed hems and sleeveless tank tops that were so short that their bellies showed.  While Yasin’s top was turquoise, complementing his olive skin, Shahin’s was made from a bright silver mesh material which looked awesome with his pink hair.  Tommy’s was black, with an Egyptian eye of Horus in its center, the material so thin that Adam thought he could see the prince’s piercings shimmer right through it.  His own black jeans suddenly got uncomfortably tight and he cursed the prince silently for this get-up.

Tommy’s head was thrown back, his eyes closed; he seemed totally lost in the music.  He was moving sinuously to the driving rhythm, like in trance, and barely out of reach of the dancers in front of the stage who kept trying to cop a feel of his toned, slim legs.  Adam had to fight the urge to just storm through the crowd, grab him and throw him over his shoulder.  Damn the man!

Kris had been standing at his side watching the spectacle, too.  Now he stepped in front of Adam and tugged his head down for an ardent kiss, pressing his body against Adam’s own.  He was hard, too, Adam realized with something akin to relief.  So at least he wasn’t the only one affected by Tommy’s appearance.

“I want to grab his skinny ass and haul him out of here,” he admitted, having to shout to drown out the din.

Kris smirked.  “And I wouldn’t mind if you did.  He’s so hot, even more so than he used to be.  Looks like he’s really come into his own.”  He pressed Adam’s hand in what Adam thought was probably sympathy.

“He’d probably flay me if I just went there and grabbed him,” Adam stated.

Kris shrugged.  “Maybe, maybe not.  Look at him; doesn’t he look ripe for the picking?”

“But he doesn’t even know I’m here.  And look at all those guys salivating over him.  He could have any of them.”

Kris jabbed Adam with his elbow.  “You’re talking bullshit, love.  He only wants you.”

“I wish I was so sure about that!”  Adam looked around, searching for distraction.  He noticed Adjani standing at the bar, together with a middle-aged guy in jeans and a plaid shirt.  Adam took Kris’ hand and they walked over.  When they came closer, Adam saw that the giant was dressed rather scantily, too, in black cargo pants and a vest of the same color.  No shirt.  He was spouting even more muscles than back at the harem, his biceps and pecs were literally bulging.  No wonder the other guy couldn’t tear his eyes off him.

“Hey, Adjani,” Adam shouted, having to exert a bit of pressure to create some space for Kris and himself.

“Hey, Adam, Kris!  This is Fred Vansen, one of Tommy’s clients.  Fred, that’s Adam and Kris.  They’re here to get Tommy.”

“I wish,” muttered Adam, before ordering a Manhattan Iced Tea for himself and an Appletini for Kris.  Vansen smiled wryly.  “I can understand that!  If I was a bit younger I’d go for him in a heartbeat, too.  Of course, he would have been way out of my league, even then.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” Adjani said gruffly.  “Looks aren’t everything, you know.”

Immediately Vansen’s eyes flew back to Adjani’s face.  The giant winked at him and Vansen instantly became wide-eyed.  It was good look on him, Adam thought.  Kris seemed to think the same, because he reached over to pat the other man’s shoulder.  “If you want a make-over, you just need to ask Shahin, the guy with the pink hair over there.  He’s great at those.”

Vansen looked at the three men on the stage.  “Yes, I know him from the massage shop.  Maybe I should really ask him.”  He smiled again, before slanting a quick gaze at Adjani.

The big man cleared his throat.  “You can ask him first thing tomorrow morning, if you’d like to.”

It took a moment for the penny to drop.  And even then Vansen seemed unable to believe he had heard—and understood—correctly.  “You…you want me to…spend the night?”

Adjani shrugged nonchalantly.  “If you don’t mind.  Do you?”

Pulling himself together Vansen stood straight, seeming to grow a few inches.  “No, I don’t.  Not at all.”  Hesitantly, he moved closer to Adjani.  The big man threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him flush up against himself.  “See how easy it is to get your guy, Adam?”

Adam scowled, downing the remaining half of his drink.  “Rub salt in my wounds, why don’t you?  What do you want me to do, grab him like a caveman and throw him over my shoulder?”

“You must listen to your inner voice, young man,” Adjani intoned, sounding like a mixture between Obi-Wan and Jackie Chan.

Involuntarily, Adam’s eyes flew over to the stage, just in time to see an overly muscled half-naked hunk with a buzz-cut reach up and press a hand against Tommy’s package.  And what was worse, the prince seemed to lean forward into the man’s big paw.

Later, Adam couldn’t quite recall what happened then.  He only knew that he was suddenly standing by the stage right in front of Tommy, his eyes centered on his gyrating pelvis, and his hand, like it had its own will, reached up and grabbed the prince by the waistband of his cut-offs and yanked him down off the stage and into Adam’s arms.

“Enough is enough,” he growled, lugging the prince over his shoulder and pushing his way through the pulsing crowd toward the exit.  Kris followed him hurriedly, managing to get their jackets and the car key.

“You drive,” Adam commanded shortly, pushing Tommy onto the backseat and crawling in to sit beside him, never letting go of him.  The prince had gotten over his first shock and began to fight back, hissing like a furious cat, but Adam just tightened his hold until Tommy went limp in is grip.

“Let go of me, you fucker,” Tommy hissed.  “You’ve no right…”

“Shut up, Tommy, or I’ll gag you.  I’ve had it, tonight.  I’m sick of this shit.  One more word of you and I’m going to smash your shop window in and get those chains, and then I’ll hogtie you to our bed and Kris will rim you till you scream.”

There was total silence in the car after that outburst.  Kris who was steering the car with trembling hands kept checking the rearview mirror nervously while Tommy had averted his gaze from Adam and was looking out of the window sullenly.  Adam was still fuming, caught in some kind of red haze, but he did notice, even in the dim light, that the prince’s cheeks had a bit of a flush to them.

“You know what,” he said to Kris, “let’s drive by the shop anyway.”

Kris set the blinker and turned left, while Adam began to search the prince’s pockets for the key.  Tommy squirmed, but remained stonily silent when Adam pawed him a bit more than necessary in the process.

Kris parked the car at the massage parlor.  Adam got out and unlocked the shop’s door, then went in to get the chains.  He had them in his hands when he saw Tommy scramble out of the car and take off in a run.  Kris jumped out, too, and took up the pursuit.  All that jogging Adam had had him do finally seemed to pay off.  At the next corner he had caught up to the prince.  Grabbing him by the waist, he slammed him with his back against the nearest wall, pressing against him with all that he had to keep him in place.

Adam slowly walked up to them, jingling chains still in his hands, and enjoyed the spectacle, now that Kris had the prince safely in his grip.

“Oomph!” Tommy gasped.  “Dammit, Kris!  Let me go!  Why are you helping him?”  He squirmed like a snake against Kris’ body.  Adam was hovering a few yards away, watching them raptly.

“Because I want him to be happy, and so do you, Tommy.  Stop lying to yourself, will you?  You’re just as crazy for him as I am!”

“No, I’m not,” hissed Tommy, bucking and heaving against Kris.  “I’m totally over him!”

Kris laughed out loud at that.  “No, you’re not.  Your eyes burn when you look at him.  It’s written all over your face, your whole body.  You love him.  You’re just too scared to admit it.  Too scared to do what it takes!  A little scaredy cat!”  He moved in to softly lick the prince’s ear, then giving it a little nip with his teeth.

The prince froze.  Kris licked him again before biting down once more, harder this time.

Tommy hissed.  “Fuck, Kris!  Stop that!”

With a last wet lick Kris pulled away.  “What’s up, my prince?  Like it a bit too much?”

With a shiver Tommy let his head sink back against the wall, his eyes closed.  Following his move Kris leaned closer and began to whisper something in his ear.  It sounded quite insistent; Adam tried, but couldn’t make out a word of it.  He only saw the prince going utterly quiet against Kris, as if listening raptly.  Kris spoke to him for a long time, his hands on the prince’s body more gentle now, and in the end Tommy gave a short, jerky nod, and Kris stepped away from him.

The prince opened his eyes.  His anger seemed to have disappeared, leaving in its wake only desire and passion.  His cut-offs did nothing to hide just how hard he was, and he was looking at Adam with a downright hungry expression on his face.  Holding Tommy’s gaze, Adam pulled Kris in for a deep, passionate kiss.  When he tore his mouth off the other man’s all three of them were short of breath.  Adam’s eyes settled on Kris.  “God, Kris, I love you.  Are you really okay with this?”

Kris smiled softly.  “I love you, too, Adam.  And yes, absolutely.”

He reached out to pull Tommy closer.  The prince complied easily, tumbling into Kris’ arms.  There was no fight on the back seat this time, Adam was driving now, and Kris held Tommy’s hand for the rest of the way, and they walked up the stairs to their apartment side by side.

Adam was behind them, still caught in whatever emotion had taken possession of him at the club.  There was a bit of a buzz in his head, and the drink he had consumed didn’t really help, either.  His gaze swerved from Tommy’s skinny ass to Kris’ marginally more muscled one, and he had to swallow down the urge to grab them both and knead their tempting cheeks right there on the stairs.

Finally Kris had vanquished the door locks; Adam noted with some satisfaction that he seemed to be having trouble keeping his hands steady, too.  When the door closed behind them with a heavy thud the hallway seemed even smaller than usual, brimming with nervous energy and wayward pheromones.

For a second, silence reigned.  The prince cleared his throat.  Adam and Kris looked at him expectantly, but what he said was, “I really need a glass of water.”

Silently Kris went into the kitchen and got him one.  Tommy drank it down in one go and gave the glass back to Kris.  “What now?” he asked, a bit shakily, looking from Kris to Adam and back.

“Now we get rid of our clothes,” Adam said in reply.  Deliberately he let his leather jacket drop to the ground and, after popping the button open, slowly pulled down the fly of his black jeans.  He nearly moaned when his cock finally sprang free of its tight confines.  Fuck, he had been hard for so long – his balls hurt as his erection bobbed in the air heavily.

One meaningful look was enough.  Kris went to his knees in front of him, licking the tip of Adam’s pulsing cock before sucking it into the sanctuary of his hot wet mouth.  “God!” Adam groaned, going week-kneed at the sudden intensity of it.  Kris moaned encouragingly around his hardness, letting him know he was ready for more, and Adam followed that invitation and pushed further in, deep into the amazing tightness of Kris’ throat.

He remained unmoving for a while, enjoying the clenching and rippling as Kris tried his hardest to keep him buried there as long as he possibly could.  At last he pulled off, taking a few deep breaths before starting again on Adam’s cock, licking and nibbling the smooth length until he had it shiny with spit.  Adam, who was equally breathless, had to lean back against the wall for support.

Kris paused again and looked back over his shoulder at Tommy.  Adam followed the direction of his gaze.  The prince was watching them intently, eyes glued to Kris’ swollen, wet lips, fists balled as if he had a hard time keeping himself in check.  If he wanted to run, or join in, Adam couldn’t tell.

“Come on, Tommy,” whispered Kris, “there’s enough for us two to work on.”

A jolt ran through the prince at Kris’ words, and he began moving toward them with halting, shaky steps, as if his body was dragging him there against his will.  Adam held his breath when he finally stood right in front of him.  The prince was deadly pale in his black tank top, his eyes dark and huge and burning with emotion.

“Oh, please,” Adam whispered, “please, Tommy—“  And then the prince knelt down, right beside Kris, resting his head against Adam’s belly in silent acknowledgment.

Dizzy with relief Adam closed his eyes, heaving a great shuddering breath.  Suddenly there were two hot mouths nipping at his burning flesh, two eager tongues dueling over him, a hand cradling his balls gently, and another hand gliding over his ass cheeks and then a wet finger centered on his sphincter and slowly pushed in.

Adam bucked up helplessly, searching more friction, but two sets of hands pushed him back, and the finger went deeper.  He growled as a second one was added, slowly filling him with a light, delicious stretch.  The tongues had followed his backward movement and now he was caught between those insistent fingers and two eager mouths that were working his cock relentlessly with teeth and tongues.  He could do nothing but hang on as they worked him from both ends, twitching and writhing helplessly under their touches.

“Please,” he begged brokenly, “Please, I need—“  And then there finally were hands on his aching cock, giving him the friction he needed and with an earth-shattering scream he shot his come in six, seven spurts, his whole body convulsing, every muscle taught.

When it was over, he slowly blinked his eyes open, almost afraid of what he would see.  Oh.  Oh, God.  Kris and Tommy were still on their knees, faces painted with his come, their eyes trained on his face in rapt concentration.  Even though he just had come, his cock gave an interested twitch at that hot picture.

“Lick each other clean,” he growled, in a voice so hoarse he barely recognized it as his own.  Kris and Tommy tore their gazes away from his face and looked at each other.  At first none of them moved, but then Kris took the initiative with a long lick over Tommy’s come-stained lips.  The prince moaned, and then Kris proceeded to clean all the come off his face, with meticulous, precise licks.  He leaned back when he was done, a satisfied smile on his lips, and then the prince did the same for him, holding his head in gentle hands turning it wherever he needed it.  When he was done, he smiled at Kris, too, and in complete accord they both turned their attention back on Adam.

With deft fingers they divested him of his jeans, then, getting to their feet, of his shirt, before taking him by the hand and leading him into the bed room where they pushed him down on the mattress.  He went willingly, curious about what would happen next.

What happened next was Tommy kneeling down by his side, the golden chain set dangling in his hands.

“Want to tie him up?” he asked Kris, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Love to,” replied Kris, and together they made short work of it.  In a matter of minutes Adam was lying on his back, his wrists shackled together and fastened to the bed’s railings, his legs raised and spread apart, leaving him wide open to whatever Kris and Tommy would decide to do to him.  The collar was a heavy presence around his neck.  It was a strange feeling.  Usually he was the one in control, and now here he was, unable to move and defenseless.  He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but there was a frisson of fear running through him, and he couldn’t help testing the strength of the chains with a few strong jerks.

“Shush, Adam.  Don’t hurt yourself.”  Kris put a calming hand on Adam’s chest, right above his thundering heart.  Tommy knelt at Adam’s other side, gently laying a hand on his hipbone, fingers caressing the sensitive flesh south of it.  With a soft sigh, Adam relaxed into the bonds.  The room was completely silent.

Kris stood up to dim the lights and put the fan on a low setting.  Then he sat back down by Adam’s side, and he and Tommy just watched him twitch in his bonds.  Suddenly feeling totally overwhelmed, Adam closed his eyes.  Every now and then a draft of cool air breezed over Adam’s sweaty skin, making him break out in goose-bumps.  Finally he couldn’t bear the tension any longer.  “Goddamn, do something!” he bellowed, opening his eyes to glare at them.

Kris just shook his head, like Adam was a particularly unruly child.  “Always so impatient!” he chided, exchanging a significant glance with the prince.

Tommy nodded in agreement.  “I know what you mean.  It’s that caveman act of his.”

“Yeah,” Kris said.  “It has its charms—I’ll be the first one to admit that—but today he’s overdone it!  Throwing you over his shoulder like that!  He really needs—“

“—to be taught a lesson!” Tommy finished.  They smirked at each other with open glee on their faces and Adam’s traitorous cock twitched in response.

“But what should we do to him?” Kris mused, putting a finger under his chin.  “Chew his nipples till he screams?”

“God, yes!”  Adam’s breathing sped up.

“Or lick his innocent little hole till it gets all hungry?” Tommy murmured, winking at Kris.

“Yes,” Adam yelled, bucking up.  “Yes, dammit!”

“You know what,” Kris leaned over to Tommy whispering conspiratorially, “he’s got that tingly place right below his ribcage where his skin is all soft and smooth, with barely even a freckle…  I know for a fact that he’s really sensitive there…”

Even while saying it he leaned down to lick said place in a long, broad swipe.  Adam’s breath caught as he tried in vain to suppress a moan.  Tommy was moving in now, too, and started with lips, tongue and teeth on the opposite side.

It was excruciating.  Their clever mouths made him writhe and twist in his golden chains, and soon he couldn’t hold back his screams any longer as they worked him over mercilessly.

“Oh God, please!  No more!  I can’t…  Ugh!  No, Tommy, please!  Kris, dammit!  I’m begging you—“  He broke off, having no breath left.  Gasping and howling alternately he gave himself over to their torture, his head thrown back helplessly, eyes pressed close as he desperately tried to hang on.  Through the roar in his ears he heard them talk to each other, but couldn’t for the life of him make out the words.  He was lost in his own world, and this world didn’t have words, just sensations, and they were short of tearing him apart.

At first he didn’t even notice that they had stopped.  He only knew that his body had stopped twitching and shuddering.  Slowly he blinked his eyes open.  Kris and Tommy were sitting back on their heels, watching him with a sort of curious detachment, as if he were a sample that had to be analyzed.

“You bastards,” he growled, narrowing his gaze at them.  “I’m gonna get you for this!”

Kris gave a grim smile.  “I don’t think he’s learned his lesson yet,” he remarked to Tommy, leaning forward again.

“No, please!” yelled Adam when the prince moved to follow Kris’ example, “please, not again!  God, please!  What do you want from me, dammit?”

Kris smiled.  “We want you to be a good boy, Adam.  We want you to take what we give to you.  You think you can do that yet?”

Adam shivered.  “I… I swear I’ll try, okay?  Just, please—“  Oh God, he hoped it was enough.  He couldn’t stand another round of this.

“Hm,” said Kris.  “So you’ll be good?”

“Yes, I swear!  I’ll try to be good!”

“And you’ll take whatever we choose to do to you?”

Adam closed his eyes and swallowed.  “Yes, I’ll take it.  I promise.”  He looked up again, searching their faces for clues.  They were exchanging a silent glance.  “Please,” he repeated, quietly.

Tommy smiled, the first real smile Adam had seen from him in a long, long time.  “Okay,” he said slowly, “I’m gonna give you a chance to be good, babyboy.  You want that?”

“Yes,” Adam gasped, “yes, Tommy, anything!”

With a smirk on his face the prince reached for the lube on the night table and coated his cock generously with the slick.  Then he poured more on his fingers and smeared it all over Adam’s sphincter.  He still was a bit relaxed from earlier, but when Tommy shoved two of his fingers in at the same time Adam groaned as his muscles tightened up in reaction.

“Too much?” Tommy asked.

Adam shook his head mutely ‘no’.  Looking satisfied, Tommy proceeded to work him open diligently, and Adam couldn’t help wondering where he might have learned that.  He seemed rather proficient at it.

All too soon the prince withdrew his fingers and knelt between Adam’s raised legs, aiming his cock at Adams twitching hole.  Adam closed his eyes, concentrating on staying relaxed.  It was hard to do, this was a thing he wasn’t used to anymore.  Tommy had to exert a lot of pressure to breach Adam, and when his cock head popped finally in Adam nearly screamed out.  He caught himself in the last second, but the groan that escaped him was telling enough.  The prince didn’t let that deter him, though.  He pushed in to the hilt, never slowing down, no matter that Adam’s muscles clenched madly around him in the process.

“Shit, Adam,” growled the prince.  “You’re so damn tight!  I never expected—“  He broke off, blushing.  Slowly he pulled out a few inches, his arms already trembling with the effort of holding him up.  “I won’t last long,” he muttered, and slammed back in, making Adam scream out now for real.  Kris, who had settled at Adam’s side and was playing with his hard nipples, smiled at Tommy, saying, “Just give it to him, cupcake.  This is for you.”

They exchanged a leisurely kiss, while Adam watched them with hungry eyes.  Finally Kris pulled away, and as if that had been his signal Tommy began fucking Adam with hard, powerful jabs, making Adam shout out with every thrust.  He was being taken, being ridden hard, and there was nothing he could do about it.  The chains held him in place effectively as the prince fucked him into submission.

The wet slamming noise seemed to echo back from the room’s walls, every jab made Adam’s own rock hard erection jump and bounce painfully.  He felt completely undone as his insides were being rearranged to fit Tommy’s cock.  Next to his belly button was a growing spot of glistening precome, and sometimes his cockhead smacked into it at an especially forceful thrust.

Tommy was breathing harshly, too, sweat dropping down from his body onto Adam’s.  Impossibly, he picked up the pace once more, hammering into Adam hard, four, five, six times, and then his whole body seized and jerked, and when Adam felt Tommy’s cock pulse inside him, his own muscles clenched helplessly.  Panting like a race horse, the prince collapsed, burying his face against Adam’s neck, his half-open mouth nursing the sweaty skin next to the golden collar.

When he pulled out at last it was accompanied by a wet, slurping noise.  Adam’s hole was still quivering; and he felt so wide open, so exposed.  He hadn’t come--his untouched cock was still leaking in sympathy--yet he experienced a sense of achievement, of completion, with Tommy lying next to him and slowly coming back to earth.

Their eyes met and stayed glued to each other for a long time.  With bated breath Adam waited for a sign from the prince, for some kind of verdict that would tell him that everything would be okay now.  Tommy’s gaze was intense, almost like it had been before they embarked on this adventure, but now there was something hidden beneath it, some kind of inner warmth, almost a glow, that bore a striking resemblance to the expression that had been on his face when they had made love for the first time.

“Will you kiss me, Tommy?” Adam asked, encouraged by it.

Wordlessly, the prince pushed up on his elbow and gently pressed his mouth to Adam’s.  Still reeling, Adam invited him in, welcoming Tommy’s questioning tongue as it claimed every corner of his mouth with determined zeal.  The hot insistence of it left Adam shaking, a fire burning through his veins and through his heart.  He was flayed wide open, all of his defenses gone.

Tommy pulled back, kneeling by his side now, opposite of Kris, and both were watching him with such tenderness it made him ache deep inside.  He relaxed into his bonds, ready for whatever they had in mind for him next.  He couldn’t help slanting a hopeful glance at Kris, though.

Kris acknowledged it with a soft smile.  “Turn around, Adam.  I want you on your knees.”

Another heatwave coursed through him at Kris’ words.  Groaning under the strain he complied.  His arms were stretched out in front of him now, his head resting between them.  The chains made him spread his knees obscenely wide, and he felt loose and dirty with Tommy’s come slowly leaking out of his well-fucked hole.

A wet hand was smashed down dead center on said hole, spreading what felt to him like an insane amount of lube all around it.  “I want you all wet and squishy,” Kris declared.

“Any wetter and your cock will drown,” Adam muttered.

“Cheeky bastard.”  Kris slapped his ass with his wet, open hand.  “Ouch!” Adam cried in surprise.  That had smarted more than just a bit.  He still felt it reverberate through his body.

“Look, his hole just winked at us!” Tommy exclaimed.  “Do it again!”

“Okay,” Kris said lightly.  Slap!  Another round of clenching followed, and then the next slap shortly afterward.  And so on.  Soon, Adam’s ass was on fire, as much from the slaps as from the reaction they set off.

“Kris, please” he groaned, wiggling his behind, “please, come on.  I can’t take anymore.  I need you in me now!”

Kris stopped the slapping.  “Hm, I like the sound of this, Adam, baby.  Tell me a bit more and I just might give you what you want.”

Adam drew a great, heaving breath.  Turning his head sideward so he could see both of them he spoke.  “Kris, please.  Take me.  Give me your cock.  I want it so, so bad.  My hole is hungry for you.  I’m wet and open and ready.  I feel like I’ll die if you don’t fuck me right now!  I want you to take me hard and fast, pound me to pieces—“

“I think that’s enough,” Kris said, voice dry, and slammed in.  Adam couldn’t help the screams that escaped him as Kris set a fast, punishing rhythm.  It was a hard, merciless ride, exactly how he wanted it.  Greedily he pushed back, as far as the chains allowed, trying to meet Kris’ urgent thrusts.  His hands were clawed around the railings for leverage, all his muscles tight from the strain.

He barely noticed Tommy wriggling to get under him, only when a hot mouth engulfed his aching erection and began sucking it hungrily, and then he lost the last vestiges of control.  His body was running on autopilot, trying to buck forward to jam his cock deeper into Tommy’s mouth, while at the same time wanting desperately to push back against Kris, needing, wanting more of everything.  It was a crazy race toward completion.  His mind shut down for a moment when it finally, finally was upon him, and he flailed like a marionette under the dual assault, broken screams tearing from his dry throat.  He heard a hoarse yell, felt Kris faltering atop him, and then a wave of heat flooded his burning, pulsing channel.  At the same time Tommy pulled off his spent cock, giving the sensitive head a last gentle nip.  It was too much.

Unable to hold himself up anymore he collapsed on the soaked sheets, taking Kris down with him.  In consequence, the chains pulled his legs up, but he didn’t even register it, and then somebody was already carefully taking them off him.

When he came back to his senses, he was the center piece of a tangled triptych of sweaty male bodies.  With eyes that were still a bit unfocused he stared up at the ceiling fan that was still drawing its slow, even circles.  He gazed to his left where Kris was half-heartedly trying to pull a blanket over them.  Kris noticed him looking and they exchanged a short smile.  Turning his head he saw Tommy on his other side, a pillow stuffed under his head, looking back at him with steady eyes.

“Are we okay, Tommy?” he whispered, holding his breath.

The prince remained silent for a long time.  Adam was almost becoming nervous.  But then Tommy smiled too, and gave a tiny nod.  “We’re okay, babyboy.”

Adam closed his eyes in relief.  “Thank fuck!”  Tommy giggled, and even Kris, who was already half-asleep, gave a little snort.

It was Adam who finally crawled out of bed and got a few wet wipes to clean most of the come and lube off them.  Then he settled back between them and watched them cuddle up closer to him, his heart nearly bursting with an overabundance of joy.  Although he was completely worn out he didn’t sleep at all that night, content to watch his lovers lie next to him and not wanting to miss a single moment of it.  He saw the first rays of dawn crawl into the room, listened to the birds picking up their morning concert one after the other, and he just knew that in this moment he was the luckiest man on earth.

And for the rest?  The future would take care of itself, one way or the other.  At least that was what his mom often had told him, and anyway, that was another tale for another day.


End file.
